


The Daughter of Pine and Snow

by qtipping



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Heir of Fire, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Queen Of Shadows, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Throne of Glass, anoran is a smol bean, so is rowan, that is actually where she gets it from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qtipping/pseuds/qtipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowan comes back from war to see his mate dead with her unborn child, but is that all of it? The time as come for his long lost daughter to appear and beg for protection, but from what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival of Someone Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! And please note that updates may very because I hate myself

Anoran kept her head low as she climbed the mountain side, pulling her muddied cloak tighter from the setting sun. Every sound made her more on edge, setting her heart thumping hard within her chest, but every gust of wind calmed her. Almost there, she’ll be there before the sun sets, and then she’ll be safe. A snap of a branch within the forest, she whipped her head towards the source, hand on the hilt of her dagger. Then there was smoke, she smelled  _ smoke,  _ oh thank the Gods. She turned and saw the orange lights twinkling within the trees. Her steps were faster as she approached the ancient rock, the horn like stones that guarded the entrances and the somewhat hidden archers beside them. They watched her as she entered Mistward, the wyrd magic stinging inside her, and she released the breath she was holding in.

“Hold.” The voice stopped her cold, but there was no face to accompany it. “What is your business here?”

Anoran swallowed, “My name is Anoran, I must speak with Prince Rowan Whitethorn at once.”

There was silence, then an older looking demi-fae emerged from the darkness. His face was masked in a hood, but his very stillness sent shivers up her spine.

“What is your business with Prince Rowan?” He demanded, his bow light in his hand, a good sign.

She straightened her shoulders, but her voice was still shaky. “My business is my own, I mean no harm to him, I swear it.”

She pulled her hood back, revealing her silver hair tied back in a braid, her auburn eyes that emphasized her freckles, and her elongated canines and pointed ears. The guard studied her for a moment before nodding to some watchmen beside him, they approached her.

“Very well, but we will require you to hand in all your weapons.” Anoran gladly unsheathed her daggers from her hip and thigh and handed them to the man. The two other watchmen took her bag and sifted through it, but not so much as an eyebrow raise from the contents within. She was handed her bag and the watchmen slipped back into the shadows. “Come with me and I shall escort you to him.”

Anoran at first hesitated, she didn’t want anyone there when she saw him, but she knew there was no arguing. She followed the old fae, further into the ancient place, many passed and each watched her and the watchmen as they continued. She studied the moss covered buildings, connecting by few stone watchtowers, the men and women she saw were all demi-fae, and stared oddly at her full-blooded fae features. The man led her to a clearing, the center of Mistward, but there was no sign of the fae prince.

Suddenly she two figures appeared, one a mortal woman with beautiful blonde hair tied back in a braid, and the other a full grown fae male. She gasped at the sight of him, she’d heard the stories, begged for them countless of times of him, but to see him in person...

“Malakai,” Rowan spoke in a deep voice that had Anoran actually scared. It wasn’t an acknowledgment of him either, it was a command to know why  _ she  _ was here.

Malakai spoke, “She said she needed to see you, her name is Anoran.”

Rowan turned to her bordley, she swallowed hard at the deadly green eyes, the strong body that could snap her in half... She regained herself and opened her cloak, digging into a hidden pocket and took out the note. In an instant Rowan snatched the note and tore open the seal, he gazed at the letters, and his eyes widened.

 

_ Prince Rowan, _

_ You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Esbern. I was a close friend to Lyria, your mate. The reason you did not find me or my parents was not because we are dead, but because we rescued your daughter and ran for our lives.- _

 

He stopped reading and ripped the paper in half, then fourths, then turned them to ice and shattered it.

“What kind of joke is this?” He spat and ran for Anoran, and would have gripped her neck if her fae abilities did not also grant her fast reaction. She fell to the ground, and the mortal woman’s yelling did not stop him as he charged for her again, for a kill.

“Your mate's name was Lyria!” Anoran blurted out, Malakai quickly left. “She was a flowergirl in a village in the mountains not far from Doranelle! She died, killed by soldiers while giving birth to her two daughters. I was born first, but my twin died in the womb, a complication from the lack of preparations from the attack. Quickly after I was born the soldiers came, we didn’t stand a chance. Esbern took me and we ran, as quickly as he could.” Rowan's face was unchanging, his muscles tense and was deadly still. “... F-for your first date, you brought her to the mountain peak and used your wind to bring the flowers and place them over the stars. You didn’t tell anyone but Esbern because you didn’t have an idea  of what to do.”

Anoran shook, her breathing shallow as she stared at Rowan, her father. His muscles relaxed, eyes softening, and slowly he came closer. He knelt down, his calloused hand brushed up her cheek, nearly covering half her face. His movements were gentle, slow, as if he would damage her if he was too rough.

“You have her eyes.” He hoarsed out, voice raw, and such grief laced with it. Anoran closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then another, and finally her hands stopped shaking. She opened her eyes and found Rowan staring at her, his eyes glazed over. Suddenly she was pulled into the smell of pine and snow, her head pressed against his chest and he brought her in a tight hug. She felt wetness on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head buried within his chest and let the powerful body smother her. She didn’t know how long she held the embrace, but she knew no one dared to pass by them. Finally Rowan helped up, but his face was barely tear streaked, only his red and puffy eyes really showed evidence.

He studied Anoran: her thin and baggy traveling clothes, the cloak completely ruined and muddied, and the bag looking nearly empty with the smell of stale bread. His brows furrowed, utterly worried, Anoran only stood to up to his chest, and the clothes seemed like they should fit her if she were well fed.

“Are you hungry? When was the last time you bathed? Are you injured in anyway?” Rowan asked question after question, Anoran actually laughed at the concern the giant fae warrior showed.

The woman suddenly sauntered up to him, laughing. “Rowan, you’re fretting.”

He gave a low growl towards her, but she only lifted an eyebrow and shifted her weight. He turned and walked, a hand on Anoran’s back to urge her along. The three walked towards the buildings, the people who walked by took one look at Rowan with his hand secured on a strange woman's shoulder, and turned the other way. They passed several buildings and entrances, Anoran struggled to keep her sense of direction, but didn’t let it bother her.

“Go get us some food, bring it to my room, and go to the servants and tell them we need clean clothes for a small sized women.” Rowan ordered and Anoran turned, but he was ordering the other woman. 

The woman by them groaned and mumbled, but left down into the stone steps. Anoran watched her leave, noting her movements were graceful, but there no hint of fae within her.

“Who is she?” She dared to ask, looking up to Rowan.

Rowan didn’t looker her way, “Her name is Aelin Galathynius-”

“The Dead Queen?” Anoran gasped, looking back to see if she could get another look at the queen.

Rowan blinked, forgetting the girl next to him. He looked down with gentle eyes, “You know of the Dead Queen?”

Anoran shrugged, “People from Adarlan are coming to Wendlyn for refuge, and they’ll tell us stories about what’s happening... it’s horrible.” She shuttered at the thought, the people who came to Wendlyn lost everything, had nothing. They wanted to make a new life, new hope, and they would tell everyone they could of Aelin, the Dead Queen who will come back to save them all.

Rowan released a sigh, long and irritated. “Yes, what’s happening in Adarlan is terrible, but Aelin will help them. She will free them, she has to.”

Anoran nodded, but a question pulled at her, “So why is she here?”

Rowan gave the slightest smile, “I am in charge of making sure she’s worthy of traveling to Doranelle. Master her shifting and magic, since she was never able to properly learn them.”

Anoran nodded and continued to follow Rowan, but more questions still dug at her. She waited until they entered the room, his smell covering the room. She’s in his room, her father’s room that was tidy, and a fire calmly burning in the wall. Rowan entered behind her, going to the fireplace and entering more wood, cracks broke the wood as the fire climbed and heated the room. He went quickly went to a desk and covered up all the maps and documents there. Guess even if she is his daughter, there are secrets that must remain hidden. After all was arranged he went behind her and took her bag, and placed it on a couch against the wall. Anoran didn’t move, standing the middle of the room uncomfortably, she didn’t know what to do, not used to people caring and doing this for her. Rowan stopped his frantic folding and storing clothes and feminine products and turned to her, realizing.

“Aelin will be back with food soon, you’ll eat then I’ll ready a bath for you.” He explained, he thought he sounded harsh, but Anoran didn’t seem to notice. He went back to preparing his room for her, there seemed to be no question from anyone that Anoran would be staying in Rowan’s room. Aelin appeared a few minutes later, not bother to knock as she entered. She placed the three plates on the table, Rowan and Aelin quickly took their seats, but Anoran was hesitant; slow to sit as her mind was clouded with troubles.

“Is something the matter?” Rowan questioned, green eyes searching her for anything that was wrong.

Anoran blinked and her mind was focused again, she shook her head quickly and answered. “Oh no, it’s just, well I guess I’m not used to... this. People caring for me, I-I mean Esbern and his parents took care of me like I was their own, but it was hard living. We stayed in the mortal cities, not wanting to risk fae territory. It was hard work, especially when mortals don’t trust faes, and so they couldn’t really... care for me.”

Rowan grit his teeth, knowing it was hard living for them, but his damned parental instincts blamed them for not caring for her.

He questioned calmly, “What sort of jobs did you do?”   
Anoran shifted, uncomfortable, but shrugged. “Oh, I learned some of the healing trade, did some cooking, and really anything that would get food on my table.”

Rowan and Aelin exchanged glances, knowing she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but did not press on it. 

Anoran shifted in the silence, and after a while suggested. “I should probably go take that bath now.” 

She began to lift, but fast as a cat, Rowan grabbed her hand. “You need to eat, regain your strength.” He kept his hand gentle, but strong enough so she couldn’t escape.

Anoran looked down at her food, realizing that she has barely touched it, and sat down. She took a bite, soon devouring the food from the excellent taste. Rowan watched her as he munched his food, relieved and frustrated with the entire situation. She was home and safe, but why did she leave? 

She stopped eating, pushing her plate away, speaking softly, “I’m full.”

Rowan was about to object, but Aelin stood and smiled. “Of course, you will regain your appetite soon enough. Let’s get you a bath ready.” 

Aelin led Anoran to the bathing chambers, the two females entering and dissapearing. Rowan paced impatiently, waiting for Aelin to return, for Anoran to be done with her bath, and for the damned servants to come back with the clothes! There was a knock and he opened with within a second, a servant stood with a basket of clean clothes. He ripped the basket from her and muttered his thanks before closing the door. Aelin appeared a moment later, leaning against the door frame and watching the large fae take out clothes and fold them before placing them in a drawer. 

“She’s covered in dirt,” Aelin sighed and walked over to help him. “She doesn’t look too thin, she’s bleeding, which is a good sign of being healthy.” She continued her report, Rowan listened silently, fixing his room to make it safe for her. Aelin stopping him, however, staring at him with dark eyes. “Rowan, she had a mark, a burn mark on her back, small but defined. She tried to hide it from me, but I caught a glimpse.”

She walked over to the desk and took out some paper, drawing the mark and showing it Rowan. He examined the mark and swore, crumpling the paper and shattering it with his ice. Aelin didn’t bother to ask what it was, she knew it was bad.

“I need to know what happened, her story.” Rowan started pacing again, trying to find something to occupy his built up anger.

Aelin sighed and consoled, “A girl like her, definitely has secrets and stories that she won’t want to share, even with her father.”

“This is about her safety, Aelin!” Rowan struggled to keep his voice down, Aelin began growing more worried from his obvious rage.

Aelin gripped his arm, holding it tight to get through to him. “I know that! However, she won’t tell it willingly, not yet at least. She needs to get comfortable around you, and, if needed, we can see if we can expose it without looking intentional.” Rowan took several breaths, long and deep. He nodded and left to finish putting her clothes away.

* * *

 

Anoran soaked in the tub, her body relaxing from the hot water. She worked to scrub her body clean, scrubbing until she thought her skin was going to rip off. She heard Rowan yelling outside, at first worried, but smiled at hearing her father  _ care  _ about her. She drained the tub and lifted, drying herself with a towel, she was ready to place her old clothes back on when Aelin entered with a clean dress. Anoran took it graciously and slipped into the shadows to change. Aelin stayed, but adverted her eyes as Anoran dropped her towel. 

Anoran slipped the dress on, but noticed that it laced up in the back, she gave a slight sigh and Aelin offered. “Do you want me to lace it up for you?”

“N-no thank you,” Anoran stuttered. “I can do it, believe it or not, I’m actually quite flexible.” Her voice was quite, thick with shame but for what Aelin did not know. Anoran laced up the dress with little trouble and followed the queen out to where Rowan was waiting, sitting on the bed patiently. 

He lifted when she entered, explaining. “Your clothes are in those two drawers, you’ll be staying with me... If that’s alright.”

Anoran laughed and nodded, “It’s perfect!” There was silence, and Anoran found an opportunity to ask, “Um, if... If it’s not too much trouble, I mean I know you’re teaching Aelin to master her shifting and magic, and I never could use them being in mortal cities-”

“You can learn with Aelin,” Rowan smiled, his hand pushing some hair behind her pointed ear. “Us two can also teach you some fighting techniques, useful when you’re up against people with iron.” Anoran smiled wide, excited to finally learn what her magic actually is. Aelin stayed for a little while longer, wanting to make sure Anoran was comfortable with everything, and to make sure Rowan knew what he was doing. Though Rowan was soon giving her glares and soft growls and so Aelin bid her goodbyes and went for her own room.

There was a long silence, two faes not knowing how to interact with each other from the years of separation. Anoran waltzed around the room, looking at the decorated daggers and weapons, reading some of the titles of books on the bookshelf. Rowan, on the other hand, struggled to not break down again in tears. His daughter,  _ his  _ daughter, was here! In front of him, alive, smiling, beautiful, everything he could possibly imagine! He didn’t even know how to talk to her, he just stared at her with disbelief.

“Dad?” Anoran question dragged Rowan back to reality. Her bright ambur eyes expecting, shit she asked a question. Rowan turned bright red, but Anoran laughed, “Its okay all the mortals looked at me like that when I was in the city. A-anyway, I was just going to ask about this dagger, it looks interesting.” She held up a dagger, a gold hilt with jewels within the hilt and up the metal. Rowan’s fae instincts kicked in and he hurried over and snatched the dagger, carefully putting it back in its holder.

He waited until he was sure she was safe and unhurt before answering, “A prince from a desert far away gave me the dagger for helping save his wife from rogue faes. The dagger is said to have the jewels of the sun encrusted onto the dagger to smite any dark beings.” The prince was just one of many who were very grateful that he helped them in some way, always giving him some fancy weapon or armor or just money in payment and thanks. Anoran was fascinated by the story, but Rowan entirely. Esbern told her the stories about the Cadre, the powerful faes in charge of protecting Queen Maeve, but he did not go into enough detail about just how powerful they really are. Being around mortals, she used to seeing people stumble and run with so much roughness to it, now she sees the full extent of fae abilities! She tempted to pick up more dangerous things just to see how graceful and godlike Rowan moves. Muscles strong enough to tear her apart, but controlled and gentle to not harm her. “I suppose we should get to know each other,” Rowan was not the one to bring Anoran out of deep thought. “Seeing that we’ve... well I did not even know you were alive until today... I just think we should catch up?” The words sounded so awkward coming out of his mouth, why should a father have to “catch up” with his own daughter? Someone is going to pay for separating them for so long, he does not know who, but he will find someone to punish.

“Um, good idea.” Anoran smiled and the two sat down on the bed. Anoran went first, recalling the past two hundred years of her life, but it was nothing compared to Rowan’s. His took the two well into the night, telling stories about adventure, war, exploration, and even some pretty amusing ones. He was about to get into a story that involved a certain Cadre having to dress up like a woman, but he noticed her yawn and stretch her limbs.

He stopped and suggested, “I think that’s enough storytelling for one night. Let us get some sleep and we can continue this tomorrow.” Anoran was disappointed that the stories were over, but her body craved sleep, and she was happy to curl up in that massive bed. She took a moment to put on her nightgown, Rowan shed his shirt, and the two climbed into the bed. 

At first Rowan was hesitant, but he finally drapped his arm around Anoran and brought her close. He listened to her heartbeat, listening to it slowly beat less as she drifted to sleep, her body twisted so her head was against his chest. The chest and head rose slowly, yet he only watched her, his face had a smile he had not had in a long... long time. One of care and love.

 


	2. A Day of Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan slowly begins to form his father instincts on Anoran as they spend the day training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm actually surprised I updated quickly, man that won't keep up. Sorry guys, but enjoy!

Rowan was awake before the sun was up, fully ready to get ready for the day and prepare for Aelin’s lesson, but he felt the light weight on his arm and stopped dead. He looked down, seeing Anoran sleeping soundly, hands curled around his large arm like a stuffed animal, her smile blissful. The pure sight made him want to feel guilty for even waking up, he wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and spend the rest of the day in the bed, but he had his duties just like any other person. He tried to slide his arm out without waking her, but she just held on tighter and shifted her position. He sighed heavily, knowing there was no way to get out of this position without breaking his heart. He leaned down and gave a soft kiss on her forehead, in turn she jolted awake and took a sharp breath. Rowan was up and supporting her in a second, helping her up and trying to calm her down.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Anoran reassured. “I’m just not used to people waking me up. If anything I would be up by now, but I guess I was just so tired.” She rubbed her tiredness away, Rowan kept a hand on her back, however, just to make sure.

“Breakfast will be ready by sunup, then I can begin your lessons early, before Aelin’s.” He talked through his plan, figuring out just how he will do this.

Anoran blinked, “Are Aelin’s lessons always in the late day?” Rowan lifted and opened a drawer, picking out a clean shirt with clean pants, going into the next room to change. 

He told while he was changing, “Aelin is a scowery maid in the mornings, then she trains with me.” Anoran couldn’t hold in her laughter, the Queen of Terrasen, a scowery maid! She looked in one of her drawers and saw a matching pair of shirt and pants, picking out the dark blue with silver embroidery, already the nicest pair of clothing she will ever have the pleasure to wear. She quickly changed before Rowan came back into the room, brushing the wrinkles off and admiring herself. Rowan appeared a moment later, grey shirt tight to his body and pants leaving a little room. He secured on his leather vest, a grey cloak secured on his back. She liked the armor he bore, fascinated by it, “Am I going to get armor like that?”

Rowan laughed, shrugging, “Once you know how to defend yourself, then we’ll get you fitted.” He led her out of the room, down the hallway, and towards the courtyard where people were bustling to  and fro from the kitchen. He descended first, using his body as a shield for the small body behind him. Anoran watched as people hurried back and forth, carrying either empty platters or full plates of food. She landed in the dim lighted kitchen and saw Aelin working frantically, cleaning dishes and setting out plates. 

Breakfast was delicious, the best thing she’s had in a very long time. She went back for seconds, the frenzy of people thinning as they went for their work. She slipped in, hoping to get some more food without them noticing. Though as she examined the kitchen, all plates of food were taken and were now being cleaned.

Luckily Aelin saw her and smiled, “Here for more? I told you that you’d get your appetite back. Emrys!” The older man turned, smiling warmly to the girl, but his brow furrowed at her beautiful white hair.

“You must be the girl that needed to see Prince Rowan,” the younger boy piped. “Malakai told us about you-”

“Luca.” Aelin warned, a slight snarl to keep his mouth shut.

He sheepishly turned away, muttering an apology before returning to work.

“It’s alright,” Anoran laughed. “I knew I couldn’t remain a secret for long, no matter how hard father might try.” Both Luca and Emrys stopped their work, exchanged bewildered looks, and turned to the Anoran. They looked her up and down, the white hair and slim body, her facial features were similar to the fae prince.

“You’re... I didn’t know he had a daughter!” He shouted, but was quickly quieted by the older man.

“Then it is best that we keep her identity quite,” Emrys warned. “She came in secret for a reason, it is best we keep her a secret.” Luca nodded and stopped talking, Emrys smiled warmly to Anoran and gave a small bow. “I am Emrys, chef of this kitchen, the boy who cannot figure out to close his mouth is Luca, and you know Elentiya. Now, what shall we cook up for the daughter of Prince Rowan?” His politeness brought a warm smile to Anoran’s face, he reminded her of Esbern’s father, a man who was nice to everyone he meet, even to a man who once robbed him. She shrugged, she just wanted more delicious food, not caring what it was. “Hm, I think I can make a meal your tongue will never forget! Have a seat dear.” Emrys quickly got to work, Anoran sat on the bench and watched him, such elegant movements and quickness that absorbed her. 

Aelin got her attention, giving her a look that spoke,  _ I am Elentiya to them. Not Aelin.  _ She guessed it when Emrys first called her Elentiya, and she knew how to keep a secret. Emrys finished her meal, laying it down and watching as she took her first bite.

“... Wow,” she gasped. “This is... I think I’m going to cry from happiness!” Laughter filtered through the kitchen, Emrys glowed with achievement. Anoran engulfed the meal, her stomach full and happy. She still stayed and asked questions, hearing stories from Emrys and jokes of Luca. Anoran didn’t even notice the heavy steps that descended down, nor the awkward quietness that settled in the kitchen.

It was only Rowan’s voice that caused her to jump, “I thought you were just coming down here for seconds.” She turned sheepishly, Rowan stood, arms crossed, but his face was light with the slightest hint of a smile.

She couldn’t help but stutter, “I-I uh... well Emrys gave me this  _ really  _ good meal and... well I got curious and started asking questions...” She trailed off when she noticed Rowan raising his eyebrows, his smile growing.

He gestured to the door and she lifted, bidding her goodbyes to everyone and following him out of Mistward. They walked for several minutes, Rowan talking through the basics of using magic and how to shift. They reached the ruins of the temple, Anoran looked around amazed at how such an old temple could still be this intact.

“Okay, let’s start with shifting,” Rowan grabbed her attention, bringing her over to a clearing. “You have never shift before, right?” She nodded shyly, but he just smiled. “It’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse. Now, the trick is to find the well inside you that holds your magic. Within is your beast form. Find the well, find the spark, and you will shift.” She nodded and closed her eyes, searching within her for that spark in the well. Rowan was quite as he watched, waiting, advising her through shifting. Anoran saw the well, deep, but with an end. She saw the spark quickly, could  _ feel  _ the animal within her, and grabbed it.

She felt her body grow smaller, eyes shifting and the colors of the world sharper, her smell increasing to smell the oldness of the stone. She was on four legs, fur clinged all around her body, a purr in her chest. She was a cat, a decent sized cat. 

“You're your mother's form,” Rowan knelt and ran his fingers through her fur. “A brown leopard. One of the smallest leopards, just a little bigger than a house cat, but one of the best at stealth and with one of the strongest bites.” Pride shonned through his green eyes, hand scratching her and causing her to purr loudly. She was so excited, her body felt knew, strong! She pounced around and pawed the ground, climbing the stone with his strong nails. Rowan laughed at the scene, remembering the same excitement he had when he first shifted to his hawk form. 

He called out to her, “You cannot stay in that form forever! Shift back so we can work on Magic.” Anoran growled lightly, leaping to the ground and grabbing spark, her body coming back to her fae self. “Okay, first we need to figure out what your magic is, find the well, and cut a small piece, like slicing butter for toast.” Anoran nodded and closed her eyes, her heart beating faster and faster as she finds the well, trying to take just a smidge of it. 

“That's good! Keep going darling!” Rowan's deep, naturally cold tone was... Excited, happy even. 

She opened her eyes, a small gust of wind was twirling in front of her, Rowan stood across from her, his smile wide with the demonstration of the magic. They were so concentrated on her wind that they didn't notice the weeds around the stone growing and cracking the stone. Rowan felt something creep up his leg, he looked down and saw the vine twist around him. Anoran noticed later and blinked, she had two magics! She stopped, the vines fell instantly and the wind stopped, Rowan came over and gave her a tight hug. 

“You're a natural,” he praised, kissing the top of his head. 

Anoran smiled, but disappointment clinged to her. “My well isn't big enough for both magics though. I could feel my end, how am I supposed to have enough reserve for two magics?”

Rowan smiled, shaking his head and explaining. “I can feel my end as well, that doesn't mean I have almost no reserve. My magic can last for days, using both my wind and ice, if used right that is. I will teach you how to use your magic so you do not burn out so quickly, having two magics means twice the depth of your well.” Rowan waited until she understood before he continued, instructing her on how to use each element to her advantage. Aelin joined them some hours later, bringing lunch for the two and listening to Anoran talk excitedly about what she learned today. 

Rowan focused his attention then on Aelin, continuing their lesson of controlling her wild fire. Candle after candle she lit them, burned them, and blew them up. Anoran did some more exercises with her magic as showed by her father. Slowly Aelin improved, and Rowan allowed her to teach Anoran some self-defense moves. 

Anoran was less excited to learn fighting skills, but she knew it was necessary. She learned how to get away from just about any hold and what to do if someone tries to kidnap her. It was only hand to hand combat first, both Aelin and Rowan agreed that she must master strength, endurance, balance, and speed before she can move to weapons. 

Multiple times both Rowan and Aelin tried to reveal the mark on Anorans back, through suggesting it, accidentally cutting her slightly, but she avoided every attempt. Rowan just needed confirmation that it was truly that mark Aelin saw, if it was, he would rip the world apart for justice for his daughter. 

It was dark when the three made it back to Mistward, ate dinner in Rowan's room, Aelin climbed up to her tiny cot, and Anoran curled up with her father. His still unfamiliar body warmed her and seemed to protect her through every danger in the world.

Though her mind had evil to conjure, a dream of darkness. 

The room was dimly lit, candles illuminating some parts and darkening others. The room was soft, covered in pillows and curtains, a large bed in the back of the room. She was alone, at least she thought she was. The room was familiar, all too familiar, the door was looked, and she knew it. 

“Beautiful as always,” the rich voice froze her blood. “You are always the favorite among my patrons, you're pretty, young, and most importantly, fae. Oh the men do love to see what a fae is like, how different they feel from normal mortal woman.” The man came into view, large, fat, thick hands gripped her arms and kept her still, kept her bound to him. “Why did you leave? My mark is still on you, you're still  _ bound  _ to me! I will find you and drag you back where you belong, you cannot hide with your fancy faes, because you are a whore. And you know it, everyone knows that you are a dirty whore!” His voice surrounded her, penetrated her mind. She could feel him undressing her, revealing her tainted body to the world, and could do nothing. 

She woke up gasping for air, sweat drenched her body, and entire body tensing and shaking. Strong hands were upon her in a second, stroking her back and holding her close. 

“It’s okay darling, everything is okay, shh.” His voice was hard yet soft, a type of territorial she's never heard. She listened to his heart beat, the slow rhythmic beating calming her down. He lit the fire and made it back to the bed before Anoran could feel the heat take her. Rowan took her cheeks in his hands, eyes filled with worry and protection that only a father would have. After he established that she was going to be okay, he questioned cautiously, “Do you wish to talk about it?”

Anoran shook her head quickly, “No. It’s... it’s fine. I have them all the time. You get your sleep, I’ll be up for the rest of the night.” Each time she has the nightmare, the same damn nightmare, she can never go back to sleep.

Rowan did not like that answer, however, “No. You need your sleep more than I do. Is there nothing I can do to help you sleep?” He was in a wreck, a complete worrisome, fae wreck. He was already worried about being a good father despite not being there for most of her life, and now his mind was blaming him for her nightmare!

“No... well I mean,” she knew what would help her, but she didn’t know if Rowan would be willing to do it. “No, there’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” Rowan knew he sounded desperate, he just need to do  _ something  _ to help her. “I will do anything.” Anoran blushed, she was used to Esbern and his family caring for her, but that was mostly just so Rowan wouldn’t tear them apart.

“Well... they couldn’t bring a lot when we escaped, but Esbern brought this book. It had a bunch of stories, and he used to read it to me every night-” Rowan was up in an instant, to his bookshelf and grabbed a book off the shelf, brushing away the dust and holding it up. “Yes that’s it! How did you know?” 

“Just about every fae has this book, it’s full of the lullabies and bedtime stories that parents will tell to their children.” He laid back into bed, opening the book and looking through the index of stories. “How about this one? It was always one of my favourites.” He pointed to one, but Anoran recognized it instantly.

“Oh I’ve heard that one a thousand times,” she rolled her eyes, pressing closer to his body. “How about... this one! I’ve always wanted to hear it, but Esbern said it was too scary.” She rolled her eyes again, Esbern always teased her when she was younger, about how the daughter of great Rowan Whitethorn could be scared of the dark and all that. Rowan laughed, his arm wrapped around her body and holding her close, her head rested on his bare chest.

“I don’t know, it is a pretty scary story?” He joked with her and she slapped him repeatedly.

“I’m not a child anymore, and I want to hear it!” She knew she sounded like a child, but she just really wanted to hear that story, and for Rowan to read it. He smiled again and turned to the page, the book supported by his legs. He began the story, at first in his normal, rich tone, but soon he began to form voices for characters and caused Anoran to giggle through most of the story. He finished one and began on the next one, a more serious one.

Anoran’s eyes began to get heavy, eyes burning, and her body began to slump. She fell asleep halfway through the other story, Rowan kissed her on the head and carefully situated her on the bed, setting down the book and blowing out the candle. He laid and bed and watched her sleep, his mind raging on and on with possible reasons for her nightmares, and the mark on her back. 

It was going to consume him if he didn’t find out soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mystery! Hope you enjoyed!


	3. The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan aches with need to find the mark on Anoran's back, but is he willing to harm her to reveal it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short, but it's action pack! (trademark)

Days went by and training proceeded for both Anoran and Aelin. Anoran would train first with Rowan, mastering shifting and magic just like Aelin, Aelin would train later in the day on her magic, and finally both Aelin and Rowan would work with Anoran on her fighting. The two would try to reveal her mark, suggest something that would reveal it, or Rowan would fret over her if she worked too hard and see if she was injured. Each time she would deny it, or move away, claiming that she was fine. Aelin would try to come up with different plans, telling them to Rowan when they were alone, but each time he denied them due to a critical point in them.

“I will not have you harm you,” Rowan declared in the ruins while Anoran was using her other form to hunt mice in the forest.

Aelin struggled to stay calm, her irritation rising, “It’s the only option. It is obviously a deep secret for her, and so she will not reveal it willingly. The only way to see it is if I burn her on the back and you go heal her.” Rowan balled his fists, pacing the cracked stone. He promised himself on the first night with Anoran that he will let no harm come to her. That he will die if it means protecting her. Yet to purposely burn her... she obviously does not want him knowing the secret, so maybe it’s none of his concern... What is he thinking? Of course it’s his concern, he’s her father! And if the mark truly is what Aelin described, there would be hell to pay. There was soft padding feet running up the hill, he could smell her scent. He dropped the topic quickly as Anoran came leaping in, a brown mouse in her jaws.

“Good job,” He praised, examining how she killed it. “In record time as well, your hunting is getting better.” She put the mouse down and dug in, purring loudly to the fresh meat. Anoran was improving quickly, a fast learner, and a willingness to learn made her training in magic almost reach Aelin’s.

Aelin cleared her throat, Rowan turned, the blue eyes glaring at him as if saying,  _ do you want to help your daughter overcome her past?  _ Rowan’s jaw locked, he turned back to the leopard, tail swishing side to side without a care in the world. What secrets could possibly be within that pure soul? What foul things have happened to her?

He sighed heavily through his nose, he nodded slowly, without looking to Aelin.

Anoran finished her mouse and shifted back, continuing her training on magic with Aelin. Each time Aelin lit a candle, Anoran would put it out with a small gust of wind, again and again until they each could master controlling how much magic they put out. Rowan ran through the plan again and again in his mind, bringing up problems and solutions, some problems had no solutions, and he prayed that those problems did not come up.

“Anoran,” He called out, she turned. “Your stance is getting lazy, turn and face me.” She turned, confused by what he meant, but Aelin simply continued to light candles. “In battle, you’re normally fighting while using your magic, you need to make sure that you have a good stance so that, if you are confronted by blades while using your magic, you won’t be surprised.” Anoran nodded and followed his instructions: back straight, feel a little apart with weight mostly on the back leg, hands limp and ready to grab her blades.

Occasionally he would glance to Aelin to make sure that she was still lighting candles, but he noticed that she was getting too powerful, “Aelin!” Her cue, she acted surprised, as if being torn out from being lost in thought. Her flame roared, crashing into Anoran’s slim back.

Anoran’s scream paralyzed Rowan, it frightened him to the bone, listening to his daughter scream in pain like that. His instincts kicked in and he grabbed Anoran, holding her while he worked to heal the burn.

“No! No!” She screamed, fighting him while pain shot through her body. Rowan caught her flailing arms, holding them with one hand while the other held her to the stone wall as gently as possible.

He tried to sooth her, ice covering her back, “It’s alright darling, please.” He made sure she was safe before he moved the high collar on her shirt, revealing a dagger with a bird perched on the hilt. His blood went cold, the world stopped, no noise reached his ears save his beating heart.

It was the mark of Bastille, the Lord of Whores. He held the largest Brothel business in Wendlyn, probably the entire world. Anoran’s sobs reached his ears, the world began to spin again, and he let her go. She did not move, did not scream at him, did not try to run away, just curl up and slide down the stone wall.

He knelt with her, stroking her hair, but he had no idea what to say.

“Y-you hate me.” Anoran sobbed out, body shaking. The pure thought alone made him want to vomit, how could he dare hate his only daughter? His only blood?

He shook his head, hands taking her shoulder, speaking loudly to break through her thoughts. “I could never hate you, love. I would rather die than hate you.”

“I’m a whore!” She cried out, “I am a disgrace to faes! Faes are meant to be perfect and pure, not a whore that sells her body to mortals!”

“Faes are not perfect,” Rowan explained. “We have brothels, we have courtesans, we have everything mortals have. 

Aelin now sat next to Anoran, grooming her hair and reassuring, “Plus, it is obvious that you did not enter the brothel business willingly, which makes you a victim.” They were quite, letting Anoran cry and shake, but eventually she calmed down and sniffed heavily.

She looked up to her father, who’s green eyes revealed nothing but care, “So... I don’t have to leave? You don’t hate me?”

Rowan shook his head, “Never.” He held his arms out and she entered the hug, tight arms held her close and comforted her. It was a long time before Rowan spoke again, deciding his words carefully, “I completely understand if you do not wish to talk about it. Though it will help me take care of you, help me protect you, if I knew what happened.” Anoran shifted, she broke away from his hug and hugged herself instead, eyes twitching with indecisiveness. 

She looked around, making sure the three of them were completely alone, she then fixed her position and told. “We were starving, I could not get a job for weeks, Esbern was busy taking care of his parents who were too old to work steadily, so it was up to me to make the money and buy the food. I wandered the streets to see what job was available, but no many were so open to having a fae work for them. Then one day, he came up to me, he gave me a large bag of silver and offered me some food. I was amazed, no mortal had ever shown kindness to me. He said that if I worked for him, then we would have enough silver and gold to buy ourselves a nice home with nice food and a nice life. How was I supposed to decline that? So I followed him to his nice carriage, a woman was with him, she was so nice and combed my hair during the ride.” She stopped, taking deep breaths, neither Rowan nor Aelin spoke. “I... I didn’t know where I was at first, the rooms were filled with pillows and curtains, no one was around so I did not know what was going on. Then we entered a room... I saw the clothes, heard the... people. I-I tried to run away, to fight, but guards help me and Bastille said that... that if I left he would make sure that we died cold and starving. My ‘training’ started that night, which was just men coming and doing... whatever they liked to me! I was there for months, serving him, but when I got my first bag of gold... I had to stay for them, for Esbern.”

She still did not explain why she left, which caused Aelin to question, “So is Bastille why you left?” Anoran shook her head, she was ready to tell, but she looked to Rowan, and remembered the Blood Oath.

“I-I don’t think it’s safe for Rowan to hear, the blood oath.” She shifted her eyes back and forth from the two faes, who looked to each other, faces twisting as if speaking without using words.

Rowan nodded, ordering, “Go into the forest and tell Aelin, she’ll decide whether it is safe to tell me.” Aelin helped Anoran up, leading them into the thick forest beyond the temple.

Aelin kept walking a few more feet even after reaching the thick of it, she couldn’t risk Rowan’s fae ears picking up anything.

She stopped and turned, Anoran explained, “One day I was out in the market, picking up some food for Esbern. I looked out and, above the wall, on top of the hill, stood two wolves. One was black, the other, white. I knew it was the Cadre, I ran back and told Esbern, he...  he barely explained himself, he just started packing my things into a bag and told me to make to Mistward and find my father. He wrote the letter and put it in a secret pocket in my cloak. Maeve, I-I think she found me. I think she sent the wolves to bring me to her.” Aelin was quite, calculating. Why would Maeve want Anoran? She might be Rowan’s daughter, but then why not bring her to him? No, no Maeve wanted something from her, she would never do anything that would specifically benefit others.

“We cannot tell Rowan this,” Aelin concluded. “You’re right, she could easily use this, you, against him.” Anoran trusted Aelin and her judgment, she was willing to be hidden for a while more, she was used to it.

They exited the forest, Rowan was waiting for them, and they walked back with some kind of smile on each face. Rowan retold stories of his adventures with the Cadre, it was only for Anoran, but Aelin, Emrys, and Luca all listened intently. It was story night as well, so Anoran stayed up extra late to listen to Emrys’ magnificent stories. Some she’s heard, some she didn’t, but each sent excitement through her. Maybe one day she will go with Rowan and Aelin to some far land, meet new people and fight enemies, save lives! 

Rowan read her another story and watched her eyes drop gently, breathing slowing as sleep took her. He laid her down and kissed her head, but he was still in shock from the discovery toady. Bastille, he’s only met him once, but just from that one meeting he knew he was the slimiest of  men, and to know what he did to his daughter... The next time he saw Bastille, he would leave that meeting with blood on his sword and claws and teeth, no one harms his daughter, no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're all so small, help them.


	4. The Beltane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anoran finally gets to enjoy the beautiful Beltane she always wanted!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man even when it's summer I cannot update quickly! Sorry for the wait!

The world began to go back to normal after that shocking day, Rowan and Aelin continued to train Anoran, and help her through her tragedy. Rowan would read to her every night, and if she still woke up with a nightmare, Rowan would listen silently as she retold the nightmare and comfort her.

Then one day she awoke to an odd sight, before her was an array of beautiful and colorful dresses, all different lengths and design. She blinked, rubbing her eyes to make sure it wasn’t a dream, but they were still there.

Rowan came in the room and saw her awed face, “Aelin said these dresses would look the best on you.” Did they go buy her dresses while they investigated those bodies? She stood and approached the dresses, running her fingers through the fabric, the softness sending shivers down her spine. “You’ll need to pick one for the Beltane tonight, I recommend this one.” 

He pointed to a beautiful long dress made for running in the grass: different shades of blue that matched the many shades in the sky. It strapped to her neck with many different jewels and embroidery, the long scarves from it worked also as sleeves. The Beltane, she could never truly celebrate it in the mortal city, but Esbern would light candles around their home and she would jump over them, wishing for a better world.

She ran over and hugged Rowan tightly, whispering, “Thank you! Thank you so much father!” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and stayed in the embrace, smelling her fresh marigold smell.

“You can spend the day getting ready for the Beltane, I do want you to help Emrys set up the food, however, he’ll be short on staff.” He told and she nodded, but a question formed in her mind.

“Who will not be there? Will it be Aelin?” She received only a nod for an answer before he had to leave. Aelin had to be at the Beltane! She has to dance with her, she seems like a great dancer!

Anoran did spend the day getting ready for the Beltane, she tried to see if Aelin could help with her hair, but she was nowhere in sight. Another maid gladly assisted her, twisting her hair in beautiful braids and ties, so intricate that she wondered if it would be a crime to take it down. She did wear the beautiful blue dress, not needing any cosmetics or jewelry or even shoes for the celebration. She meet with Emrys just before sunset, carrying several platters of food fresh out of the oven, walking quickly to not only get the heat off her skin, but so she could be the first to dig in.

She saw Aelin and Rowan on the way to the clearing, atop of a hill where three great bonfires flamed, most likely controlled by Aelin. She set them down and snatched some food before Emrys could catch her, running up to her father and queen, handing them some sweets.

“Will there be music?” She questioned, biting into the cake pie, some frosting trickling down her chin.

She received a chuckle from her father, he used his thumb to wipe it away, answering. “Yes, the best music you will probably ever hear.”

“Too bad I will be stuck here, bored out of my mind and begging for rain.” Aelin slumped down in the grass, biting lazily into the sweet.

“You need to learn to control your fire, the Beltane is perfect, giving you the pressure to not light anyone on fire.” Rowan teased, Aelin gave him a cruel gesture, a gesture Anoran has only seen mortal do.

She got her father's attention, suggesting. “I’m sure Aelin could take a break for just a single song to dance with me?” She gave a soft smile, the sun glistened off her tan skin, eyes sparkling. She saw Rowan’s muscles drop, his eyes slowly closing, a cheek on her cheek.

Finally he sighed, “I suppose, but only one song.” She laughed and hugged him tightly, dancing off down the hill to finish off preparations.

Aelin watched the exchange, watched the cold fae she meet in her drunken state worship this small girl with so much to learn.

She smiled spoke truly, her voice strong with no hint of jesting. “I’m glad she came and found you, I’m glad someone has brought happiness for you.”

He looked down at her, a hint of shock in his eyes, but the look also spoke,  _ I’m sure one day you’ll find that someone too _ . Aelin shrugged and turned back to the fire.

Anoran could barely keep up with it all! When night fell the clearing came alive with so many demi-fae’s who leaped over fires and sang and danced to their hearts content! Laughter surrounded her, louder than she had ever heard it! This was truly a Beltane, not skipping over candles with barely a hum to dance too in fear of people finding them, but music and tranquility.        Dancing carried her through most of it, feeling the spirit within everyone and dancing to it, a rhythm of beating hearts and bright souls with music as its background. 

She ran up the hill and waited for Aelin to have the flame climb higher, then she sprinted to make the jump, to feel the heat beneath her as a cool wind levitated her across.

Rowan saw this as well, and he commanded quickly, “Bring down the left flame.” Aelin followed and dimmed it, Anoran skidded to a halt.

“Come on Aelin, higher!” She waved her arms up, her words a string of laughs together.

“That’s plenty high enough.” Rowan denied, “Now go, you’re holding everyone up.” His voice was stern, but not his normal cold-hearted tone that put fear in everyone, a sternness of a father worried for the safety of his child. She clicked her tongue and backed up, sprinting and leaped, she twirled before pushing her legs into a split, a small dance move she learned from watching parades. She felt wind carry her further, spinning her, playing with her. She landed, everyone was cheering and clapping, she looked to her father who gave a wink. She laughed, would have gone for the other leap if the music had not changed: the rhythmic beating of the drums, the fiddle fast  and so familiar. It was the song,  _ the  _ song that Esbern always hummed to and tapped on the floor, the song he taught her the dance to, the song she sang when she had nightmares and no one was around the comfort her. Her favourite song.

She sprinted to Aelin, practically dragging her away, “Come dance Aelin! Come dance with me!” Aelin laughed and was ready, but Rowan carefully but quickly broke the bond and motioned to Aelin to get back to work.

“Not now sweetheart, later, I promise.” He comforted, motioning to the many people who still leaped over the fires. No, no she needed this dance, she needed to dance to this song one last time!

An idea conjured in her head, her smile revealing her bright white teeth, “Then you have to dance with me father!” She took his hand in both of her, trying to take him away.

“I have to watch after Aelin,” He tried to stop, to focus on his work, but that smile said differently.

“I’ll make sure I don’t burn anyone! Go dance with your damn daughter!” Aelin shouted for everyone to hear, Anoran’s heart stopped when everyone turned to her, but there was no hate in their eyes. They cheered the two on clapping and encouraging. Rowan ran down the hill with his daughter for the dance.

He knew the steps as well, he offered her hand, she took it, he spun and she lept, their bodies working together like wind carrying leaves in autumn. Many stopped to watch the Prince of Dornalle spin his daughter and smile brighter than the sun. The music reached its climax, a ring around them as they danced and spun to the music. The whole thing seemed like a blur to Anoran, her movements just simple steps instead of intricate dance movements. The people were all blurs, just figures cheering her on, but her father, her father was in full focus. Rowan Whitethorn, one of the Cadre, the greatest warriors in the world, a Prince, was dancing with her, his daughter. A man who had lost his mate and seemingly his only child, a man who had disappeared for ten years, who was rumored to have never smiled, was laughing with her. She made him happy, she brought hope to his world, this is what she wanted to do in life, to make people happy.

The song ended, Anoran was dipped, Rowan holding her tight and easy. Cheers flooded Anoran’s ears, the spectators cheering and smiling at the show. Rowan lifted her, she bounced, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her and chuckled into her ear, landing soft kisses on her skin. There wasn’t a care in the world, no hunger, no brothels, nothing.

Rowan turned towards the bonfires, something caught his attention, his smile dropping. He placed Anoran down, slowly approaching, but then breaking out into a sprint. He was calling Aelin’s name, begging her, Anoran followed, fear building up. She saw Aelin in front of the fires, the flames licking her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” She heard Rowan whisper out, then she felt the wind retract, Aelin fell to the ground screaming. Rowan rushed over and picked her up, his skin sizzling and burning to touching her. He began to hurry back to Mistward, Anoran began to follow, but Malaki caught her.

“She’s hurt!” She pleaded, trying to break free of his hugging grip.

He grunted, holding her tight and replying, “She has had a burnout. Rowan will take care of her, but you must stay here with us so he can focus on Aelin.” Rowan by this time was a dot in the distance, his shouting for healers causing a dim light in a window, ready for what was about to come to them. “We will take you to her in a little while, but Rowan is being very territorial towards her right now, it won’t end well for anyone who enters.” Anoran didn’t understand, didn’t understand fae territorial instincts, but trusted Emrys and waited nervously.

It seemed like hours before Emrys said it was alright to see them, then no one could stop her as she sprinted to Mistward, taking the stairs by twos towards the healing ward, to the single lit room. She entered the room, an odd mixture of heat and cold swirled the room, the source from the bathing room.

She opened the door slowly, Aelin sat curled in the tub, scars riddled her back and entire body. Rowan’s scent was in here, thick with worry. 

“A-Aelin?” Anoran spoke softly, not daring to take another step.

Aelin exhaled slowly, replying. “I’m alright Anoran... Just... need some rest.”

Anoran nodded and quickly found a blanket, approaching the tub, “Here. I’ll help you to your bed.” Aelin had no energy to deny, she let Anoran help her up and wrap her in the blanket, handing her clothes and aiding each limb into the garment. 

Most of Aelin’s weight was on Anoran, but she didn’t mind; if anything she was happy and proud to help her recover. 

She reached her room, realizing that she had nothing more than a small cot, Anoran would talk with her father tomorrow for a bed in the room. She laid the queen down and tucked her in, debating whether she would stay and see if Aelin would need anything else. Suddenly she heard wings, coming fast towards the window, a gust of wind brought it open and a white tailed hawk entered before shifting back to Rowan. He lifted Aelin and left the room in a swift movement, Anoran following.

“The servants have a room prepared for you next to mine, Aelin will be staying with me until she recovers.” Rowan told, his voice was was not demanding, but it still left no room for argument. His smell was no longer just pine and snow, it was protective, extreme worry and caution as he laid Aelin down gently, started a fire and laid in the bed on the opposite side.

Anoran smiled as her father completely fretted over Aelin, he was warming up to her, “I’ll bring breakfast tomorrow.” She left the room for her own bed.


	5. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin must recover from her burnout, Anoran does what she does best and tends to those hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip school started so I could not update, sorry!

Anoran woke up early, the sky still dark and quiet save for the buzzing bugs that thrived to annoy her and all workers. She hurried to the kitchen, Emrys and Luca already had a platter of food prepared for Aelin, but more dishes for Rowan and herself. She said her thanks and left, taking the direct route towards the bedroom. 

She reached the door but did not want to risk opening the door, instead she knocked on it with her food, it opened in an instant. Rowan’s face was deathly cold, a growl in his throat, but it dropped when he saw Anoran. He took the food and placed it on his desk, over the map that he always so covered up so cleverly. Aelin was awake, sitting up and sipping her tea, greeting Anoran with a warm smile. Rowan placed a plate on Aelin’s lap, snatching her empty cup and filling it up with more tea from the kettle. Anoran giggled at the little show, Aelin gave her the same amused look, and Rowan knew what they were thinking.

“I’m not fretting.” he growled, blowing a cool wind over the tea at the same time.

Anoran slipped onto the bed, legs crossed beside Aelin, giggling, “Yes you are. You acted the same way when I first arrived.” Rowan grumbled, but did not try and defend himself. Anoran rarely saw this kind of fae instincts, Esbern was not the warrior type to rip apart a guard to protect her. It lead her to cock her head, brows furrowing, “Do all males act the same way?”

Rowan ran his fingers through the silver locks, sitting down and explaining, “Yes, even to females they have never known. If a male finds a female wounded, his instincts kick in and he will maul anyone who even might seem like a threat to her.”

“So basically it is all just some fae territorial nonsense?” Aelin chimed in, giving him a smirk.

He defended himself this time, “It’s not  _ nonsense _ . It is how we protect those who cannot protect themselves. You think I’m fretting now? Picture if Anoran was bloodied, even a sprained wrist would set off my instincts and I would let nothing get between us.” It still amazed Anoran that he would act like that, to her, just on his pure instincts.

Anoran stayed with them, Rowan did her magic training in the room since there was no way in hellas they were leaving Aelin alone. Emrys and Luca stopped by once, relief swept over them when they saw Aelin alive and well, before Rowan’s growl sent them running.

Rowan left the next day, he did not tell Anoran why, but he gave Aelin a look that seemed to hold an entire explanation. For weeks she’s been trying to decipher those looks between those two, how they are able to communicate without speaking, and she further wondered why it was with  _ Aelin  _ of all people. She finally managed to get a look at the map, Aelin did not bother to try and stop her as she moved the plates and examined the marks on the map, but nothing real special seemed about them other than they were all close to a river.

Aelin had Anoran work on balance, she would stand on one foot on the bed frame, lifting onto her toes, and back down, over and over again. It did not prove as much of a difficulty due to her fae abilities, but when Aelin started implementing more and more components, that’s when she would fall onto her face.

“Keep your hips under you, body straight,” Aelin placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her hips under her torso. She was able to walk again, walking through some stretches with Anoran to relax their body.

Anoran swore under her breath, offering a quick explanation, “I’m sorry, it’s just... well  _ he  _ would make me stick my hips out, to reveal my ‘all too flat ass’ as he would like to put it.” The once broken tone that was laced when talking about Bastille was gone, now anger and hatred built up in her pink lips.

“It’s alright,” Aelin soothed. “It’s easy enough to correct, just be conscious about it, alright?” Anoran nodded and they got back to work, Aelin making sure to be careful when training Rowan’s daughter.

Her father’s scent reached her before the footsteps, her eyes brightened and she waited excitedly for his return, Aelin leaned against the table.

Rowan entered, his body still strong despite the hard running he’d done previously. He gave his daughter a quick but powerful hug, kissing her head before revealing Aelin’s gift. Anoran had never seen Aelin look so happy, pure joy washed over those eyes as she snatched the chocolate box out of his hand, examining and inhaling the sweets deeply.

“Consider it my birthday present to you,” Rowan smirked. “Don’t expect anything nice from me again until next year.” Anoran’s brown eyes widened with shock, why didn’t Aelin tell her it was her birthday!

“Aelin, why didn’t you tell me!” Anoran gasped, the sweets hitting her and now watered her mouth.

Aelin blinked, realizing what was wrong, “I mean... I never told my birthday to anyone, sometimes Arobynn would get me some sweets, if I was at home.” Anoran’s eyes quickly darkened to match the chocolate on Aelin’s lap. Even in their hardest years, Esbern always made it a point to wish her a happy birthday, to hug her and kiss her head, even get her something nice if he had the money. Anoran wanted Aelin to feel that happiness, to feel special on the day she was born into this world.

Anoran smiled and proclaimed, “Well that is unacceptable, I’m going to make you a cake, and you will celebrate your birthday the only way a person should!” She wouldn’t dare give away her surprise, even Rowan gave her a lifted brow as she skipped off past him and towards the kitchen.

She informed Emrys of the plan, Luca loved the idea and began helping her gather the ingredients for the cake. Emrys over saw, but was mostly informing Malakai of the plan and getting everything ready. She made sure Rowan and Aelin stayed in the room, she saw Rowan leave once, as she only guessed, to make sure she did not slice herself open on the knife, but she pushed her magic into him and herded him back into his room.

Night was beginning to fall as she finished up the last touches, a beautiful chocolate cake sat perfectly on the table, eighteen edible candles on top, but none were lit. The small bundle of presents sat in the corner, away from view. She led Aelin out, a blindfold over her eyes as she was guided towards the kitchen, Rowan followed with a wide smile.

She put Aelin before the cake, she had a sense Aelin already smelled the chocolate as her smile was wide and vicious. Anoran ripped off the blindfold and let Aelin take in the scene: Luca, his mate, Emrys, and Malakai were gathered, wine cups already in hand with smiles on their faces. Aelin was speechless, Anoran swore she saw the glint of tears swell in those turquoise eyes, but they did not break through.

“This is all... for me?” She whispered, looking up to see the candles lit and ribbons streamed around them.

Anoran shrugged, “Well it just isn’t right for someone to not celebrate their birthday, it’s the only day where you are really deemed special.”

“Oh yes, because Aelin needs an excuse to boss people around on her special day,” Rowan joked, Aelin gave him a glare, but her smile could not be hidden. Rowan was smiling as well, though his eyes lingered towards Anoran, the candlelight dancing around in her mother’s eyes, and he did not feel his heart strain at the sight, as it has before.

Anoran brought Aelin closer, holding out the single candle left on the counter, ordering. “Put this in your mouth, I’ll light the candle.” Aelin silently obeyed, fitting the end between her teeth.

Rowan, however, could never let an opportunity for magic lessons to go to waste, “Don’t bother, Aelin will light it.” Aelin gave him a true glare, her eyes lazy, but Rowan simply raised his eyebrows in answer,  _ just because it is your birthday does not mean you get out of lessons _ . Aelin would stick her tongue out if she could, so she simply gave him a vulgar gesture and turned back around, focusing her magic onto the candle, lighting it with ease.

“Now light the other ones, one for each year you’ve been born.” Anoran ordered and Aelin complied, kneeling down and carefully lighting each candle, the flame carrying over to each. She reached the seventeenth candle, her miserable birthday spent in the Red Desert with just her guide to keep her company. Her eighteenth, a far worse birthday spent mining salt from Endovier, her soul seemingly crushed, mind and body numb with only her false name reminding her of who she was.

And now her nineteenth, not in a hot desert, or with blood still clotting from wounds, but with friends who smiled as she lit the final candle, who toasted to her and wished her a happy life. She tried to push the tears back, but her nose began to tingle, and she couldn’t control the few drops that slide down her cheek.

“Now make a wish,” Anoran whispered, her smile still so bright that she gave Aelin a birthday she wanted, needed. Aelin closed her eyes and wished, she wished for a world of peace and joy, and for Anoran to be dancing and spinning with her wind, and Rowan on her right, that damn fae bastard beside her and protecting her. She blew out the candles and wished hard, she wished with all her might, and felt at peace.

That only lasted for a moment, for too soon she felt a hand on the back of her head and shoved her down into the chocolate cake, her face smothered and filthy in brown frosting as she brought it back up, too shock to summon her fire in fury. The room was deathly silent, save for only Anoran’s little giggle as Aelin wiped the cake from her eyes to give the female an almost betrayed look.

Anoran shrugged and tettered on her toes, “As Esbern would put it, it is a reminder of how disgusting you looked when you were first brought to this world.” Rowan boomed with laughter,  _ true  _ laughter, others quickly followed. Aelin finally smiled and laughed, giving the girl that for the hard work she made her go through these past couple of days. Aelin licked her fingers, then her lips, and she began to scrape the frosting off her face and devour it, letting others take their slice.

When each had their fill, Anoran presented the presents, nothing major, a wood carving from Malakai, the image of a flame. Emrys presented her with a book of recipes for her to try and show off when she returned to Adarlan. Luca a nice warm wool blanket just in case “some fae trapped you in a cave of ice.” His mate a new dress, it was simple, but would go well with her eyes on a nice summer day. Finally Anoran revealed her present, a locket, round to fit a wadded up note, or whatever else could fit. The chain was silver, the locket itself had a glass covering so you could see the contents inside.

“So you can hold those dear by your heart,” Anoran explained, Aelin gazed at the necklace for a long time, so many names came to mind, names of those she tried to protect, those she failed to protect, those who died protecting her. She thanked Anoran and gave her a hug, her arms pulling her in tight, heads close together. The small group told stories and laughed through much of the night, before Rowan declared the party officially over and nearly dragged the grumpy females back to their beds.

Aelin when to sleep looking at that locket, Anoran went to sleep planning a party for her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing exciting except hopefully tears of joy for our small children.


	6. The Battle at Mistward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A danger is coming to Mistward, and Rowan's fae territorial nonsense is pissing Anoran off...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A seven page long chapter? I know gettin' serious now. Serious shit happens so be prepared.

Rowan began the lessons again with the two, but he focused most of his time on Aelin, shaping her fire into different uses. He focused much on having her make a shield, throwing ice dagger after ice dagger at her, each time she desperately tried to make the small, concentrated shield. He told Anoran to focus more on shaping her own magic as well, being more creative with her wind and vines, making nice sculptures and different weapons and shields to protect herself. She secretly wanted to work more on hand to hand combat, if only because she was promised to begin training in weapons once she’s mastered hand to hand combat. Rowan was pushing Aelin hard, relentlessly chucking ace knife after ice knife towards her, expecting her to block it with a fire shield. He explained that it was because in a real battle, your enemies would not go lightly on you, they aim is to kill you. Still, whenever she showed the slight sign of tiring out, Rowan demanded she take a break, while he chucked another ice knife at Aelin. Anoran tried to object, to make her father treat her the same as Aelin, but she was very exhausted.

Anoran was still proud to see Aelin improve, to see her get better and better every day, even Rowan seemed surprised. They discovered her secret a couple days later, she followed her father silently just after dawn, climbing the battlements where she heard the familiar female grunts and swears. She watched in awe as Aelin practiced with herself, flinging fire knifes and shielding them, again and again. When she was knocked on her ass she just swore and got back up. Rowan spoke of the guards, Anoran didn’t care, she could watch Aelin do this all day, it was like a dance. Anoran wanted to dance to this music.

She  became more persistent in her plea to training hand-to-hand combat. Never leaving her father along until he agreed. He finally did agree, letting Aelin continue their lessons on self-defense.

However, it did not last long, because soon Rowan and Aelin had to leave to “investigate some possible danger” Rowan had quickly explained before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead and running off with Aelin.

Now she was stuck with Emrys and Luca, listening to stories and making little vine figures, waiting for her father and friend to return.

She heard them return late in the night, but when she went to greet them Rowan ordered her back to her room with a tone she's never heard. It was a command to soldiers, anger was seething from him, but she knew it was to protect her.

So paced around her room and strained her ears to hear the conversation they were having, the things she did hear chilled her and made her nauseous, but she still listened.

“So what do we do?” Aelin’s voice was tired, hopelessness clung there in the late hours of the night.

There was silence, both Aelin and Anoran waited nervously for Rowan’s answer, and he gave it with the determination of a commander. “We prepare for battle.”

Anoran did not go to sleep, even when her body begged for it, she could not sleep with her mind racing. A battle, Adarlan soldiers, _demon_ soldiers, are coming to Mistward to kill them and take them. Would she have to fight? She has never taken a life before, even when hunting she makes sure her prey has no children with them, but killing people...

She knew they were evil, that killing would probably be merciful, but even if she was able to get a killing blow on one, Anoran knew she would not be able to do it.

“How much did you hear?” Rowan’s rumbling voice tore her from her thoughts, the muscular body leaning against the doorway.

She sat up in her bed, legs crossed, answering softly. “A lot.” He said nothing as he crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge and letting Anoran come to him, his arm open to drape around her, her head resting on his chest. His hand made lazy circles on her arm, tracing it to her wrist and up to her shoulder.

“I need to help,” she said at last. “I _want_ to help, but I don’t know how.” She looked up to her father, his green eyes looking at her with what she thought was dread, longing, as if he saw Lyria in those molton brown eyes.

Then they brightened, and he answered with a small smile, “You do what you do best. You make people happy, to make them forget the troubles we are facing. You smile and tell them it will be alright, because it will.” Despite the confidence he had in her, it was not enough for her.

“But people will be dying! They will hear the screams and what happens when soldiers come through and start slaughtering? I might be able to hold them off with my magic, but if they have iron-”

“I do not know how we will protect everyone yet,” Rowan admitted, holding her tight. “But I will promise that no matter what, these soldiers will not make it through. I can teach you how to use your magic in a battling situation, how to make your reservation last long enough, but I do not want you relying on that.” She dragged her eyes away from his, unable to think of the carnage she will see. “Anoran, darling,” Rowan used his other hand to grab her chin and turn it towards him, speaking softly. “You forget something that is incredibly special about you, you like to help people. You trained as a healer, you know how to make people smile, and you are a dedicated worker and pupil when it comes to your magic. In the time of battle, you will know your role, you will know what you need to do.” He waited until she gave him a slight nod. He kissed her on the head and wished her goodnight before leaving for his own room.

Anoran crashed in her bed, only able to get a few hours of sleep before the sun began to rise, then she was off to help with preparations.

Preparations lasted all day, scouts heading out with traps, weapons and armor being mended and sharpened, and the healers stocking up on all medical supplies they might need. Anoran skipped around to each, helping the healers or scouts or people with whatever they needed. She rarely saw Rowan and Aelin, busy with their own preparations. Supplies were being stored in the hidden passage, food and water and clothes, for the people who could not fight to stay while the fighting when on. Mistward was quieter than usual, tension was thick, and even Emrys could not find the right stories to cheer the people up.

Rowan kept his promise and showed Anoran how to conserve her magic, the breaths to take and how to dig into her magic before a battle. Though he began to grow more distant, spending more and more time pouring over the maps and discussing battle plans with the other guards and Aelin. She tried to help, to listen and add advice, or just get them some snacks after they’ve been at it for several hours, but Rowan would just quickly lead her out and tell her to focus on the citizens.

She was quickly growing tired of it, and after the one night where she heard Aelin sobbing in her room, after going to the meeting, she was more and more persistent.

“Anoran, I told you this does not concern you!” Rowan’s temper was rising, mostly due to the lack of sleep he’s been getting, Anoran noted.

She stayed exactly where she was in the kitchen, however, arms crossed. “I need to know the plans so that I know where to lead the people if we must escape.”

Rowan ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing through his nose. “You will not be leading the people out, there will be no need to lead the people out-”

“How do you know that!” Anoran flailed her arms in the air, “How do you know we’ll win? For all we know, we’re already dead!” Something cracked in her, and she could only spill the truth. “I came here because I wanted to finally see my father, the man who Esbern told me stories about. The legendary Rowan Whitethorn, the warrior of wind and ice. I was so proud that you were my father, so proud, but I knew I could never have a normal life because of your involvement with the Cadre.” Tears began to form in her eyes, everyone was silent. “When I saw those wolves that day, I was so scared, _terrified_ , that they would take me away and make it so I would never see you, my father, ever. But now here I am, and I want to help you, help everyone, because I know I would be useless to you! I would be a burden who needs constant protection from your own companions! So for god's sake let me help!” Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, chest shaking as she breathed, and the room echoed in her screams.

Rowan walked to her slowly, face mixtures of grief and pride and sorrow. He coupled the two soft cheeks, lifting her face so those dark eyes could stare into his. He only kissed her head and embraced her deeply, not the powerful, passionate hugs he gave her for all those times, but calming, deep.

He waited several more shaky heart beats before saying, “I will _never_ see you as a burden. Do you understand? I do not care if you cannot fight or shift or use magic, I only care that you are here with me. I am sorry I have been blind to what you want, to what you need. I just... I don’t want anything to happen to you, I have already lost so much, and to lose you after just getting you back...” She felt her hair dapen with his own tears, she hugged tighter. “I promise I will try to do better, you are welcome to join us and help in whatever way you can.” He composed himself, wiping away her tears first, before his. She smiled warmly, he returned it.

She spent the rest of the meeting at his side, offering food and drink and advice from a healer.

Anoran awoke with a start, Rowan and Aelin charging out of their room, Rowan barking commands. Anoran was dressed before she heard them reach the bottom of the stairs, the night still dark, but dawn was not that far away. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. She grabbed her satchel and sprinted out the door, following her father’s scent to the battlements.

She reached him when the sky was turning to a gray, the sun beginning to rise.

“Father-” she couldn’t even finish the sentence before he turned, face hard ice and eyes a deathly calm. He began strapping knives to her without so much as an explanation, tightening the leather straps to make them appear like a second skin. She looked out, hoping to see what had set him off, but she felt it rather than see it. A darkness was coming towards the, coming fast with blood already dripping from their talons.

“We have a rat,” Aelin finally explained. “Someone gave away the position of the traps, they avoided them. They’re here.”

“You need to go down to where the others are, see to them, I’ll be right there with you.” Rowan’s hands held her cheeks, but not in the way they did last night, this time they were harder, more commanding. Anoran was taking fast, shallow breaths, but she nodded and ran down to the cave.

The people were so scared, clutching each other and whispering prayers, Anoran didn’t know what she could do to help. She observed everyone in the cave, wondering if the rat was here, if they would try to escape when the fighting started. She would gladly watcher her father rip them to shreds for betraying their own people.

“Do you hear that?” Luca’s voice was wavering, his weapons were strapped to him, a hand on his thin sword. He approached the mouth of the cave, Anoran now straining her ears to hear it. It was feet, strong powerful feet running in a cave, echoing. They were coming louder, shouts started to be distinguished.

Anoran had no control over her body as she ran, “LUCA!” She shoved the demi-fae out of the way and sent a shield of wind before her, blocking the arrows that flew. Screams started, masking the soldier's shouts as they sent another folly. Anoran knitted a wall of vines, tight and thick to stop the arrows, it would keep them at bay, for a time. She already felt her magic wavering, she realized she had not eaten since lunch yesterday. Swords and axes started chopping at the vines, and soon she could not replace them as they fell and fell.

“Get back!” She ordered, the warriors coming forward as she helped the women and children and old men away.

Though despite the small breathing room Anoran gave them, it wasn’t enough. The vines dropped from the lack of support, arrows flew, killing several warriors instantly. Then the soldiers came, bearing swords and shields and bloodlust eyes. The demi-faes fought hard, but there was just too many Adarlan men. Some started to go for the defenseless, Wicked smiles on their faces as they raised their already bloodied swords. Anoran drew her short sword, ready to die for these people, but a sudden gust of wind blasted them back, before a large figure gutted them.

“Father!” She cheered, watching Rowan Whitethorn enter the fray, single-handedly taking out the armada.

Anoran helped when she could, putting up shields to avoid anymore soldiers getting through to them, but from her position she could see the carnage that was happening. Warriors were falling here and there, screams of terror and agony as blood spilled from whatever wound would claim them. Where were the healers? Are they still in the towers? Thoughts and thoughts crossed Anoran’s mind, fighting became an instinct, something not to concentrate as she stared at the dead.

“Dada!” A cry, a child’s cry as it watched his father get struck by a soldier, Rowan quickly coming and killing the Adarlan man, resting the other father against the wall before going back into the fray. Anoran looked to the child, tears streamed down its puffy cheeks, reaching out for his father, begging for him to get up. Anoran’s ears blocked out all sound, all sound save the child’s cry. A child was about to lose his father, he would bleed out if left without proper care, a child was about to lose his father, just how Anoran was the day she saw the wolves. Anoran had no control of her feet as she ran forward, getting the male's arm around her shoulder and heaving him up, guiding him away from battle.

As she hurried back she called over her shoulder, “Get the other injured and follow me!” With that, Anoran Whitethorn helped the people of Mistward but setting up a small infirmary in the kitchen, healing the hurt.

Her mind was focused on one thing only, bandage the wounds enough so they won’t die. Supplies were limited, as someone found out the healers were locked in their tower, the rat must have done that to ensure that no help would come, but they forgot about her. They managed to get her more supplies from the healing ward, bandages, thread, needles, things like that. More and more soldiers were coming, Anoran having to tell other women what to do for each when she was occupied with a serious injury. The battle outside was distant, and Anoran thank the gods for that, she didn’t know what she would do if the soldiers found them here, how she would protect them...

But all of that was in the back of her mind, a soldier came in with his leg nearly off, she just cut the last tendons and casterized it, wrapping it before getting him off the table and helping another on with a bashed head.

The battle raged on, and Anoran was there to help the hurt.

Blood was dripping from her hands, her wrist, all the way to her elbows. Splatters of crismon was on her clothes, her feet, her face and matted her hair. All of that was a second thought to her, everyone in the kitchen was stable, the current demi-fae on the table was unconscious, but he would live. She only lost two people, so far she reminded herself, there was still the people on the battlefield, unable to move to her makeshift infirmary. They were all deathly silent as they heard the last of the battle, the swords clashes now distinctable, and cries of victory were beginning.

She turned to Luca’s mate, her name escaped her at the moment, her mind still in a haze. “You, watch after everyone until I return, I’m going to look after those who cannot get here.” She nodded, her hands shaking, but luckily she did not need to do any major savings, hopefully.

The stairs seemed like climbing a mountain, her adrenaline wearing off and exhausting was beating down on her. She just focused on what she had in her bag, and what might have to do, the injuries she might have to see.

She reached the top, but the sight awaiting her sent her heart pumping hard in her chest. Two wolves stood before her, blood covered their muzzles, paws, and chest. Their eyes were bright but not bloodlust, yet a small growl was in each throat. Air was trapped in her lungs, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t shout for help as they advanced on her, backing her into the wall. Two white lights surrounded them, and suddenly they were the most handsome men she’s ever seen. One with skin like the night, the other golden, like their other forms, hair shaved on either side and long golden locks curled down their backs.

“You are one hard girl to find,” the light one spoke, his wicked smile drastically different from his brother’s stone face. “So make it easier on us darling and come quietly.” No, no she would not let them take her, not not now, not after all she has done for these people, for her father...

“Get back.” She hissed, her right hand coming behind her as if to feel for the wall, but really she grabbed the hilt of her dagger.

Again, the light one spoke, chuckling as he stepped forward. “Oh I don’t think so, we’ve spent a lot of time finding you, we’re not letting you go now.” He reached for her, but never made it. Her hand shot out and lunged for his, managing to slice the hand open, drawing blood.

“Bitch!” He recoiled, the dark skinned one now made to get her, but she used vines to wrap his ankles and hold him firm. The wound on the other’s hand quickly healed, and he turned to her again, fixing his jacket. “So, you really want to do this the hard way, hm? After all the fighting we’ve done to protect these half-bloods-”

“Demi-fae!” She spat, her hand tightening around the hilt.

He was ready to snap right back at her, but a low, brutal sounding voice cut him off. “What’s going on here?” A large man came between the two fae’s, ears rounded like a mortal, but he definitely was not one. He stood a whole head above the twins, which means he must be at least a foot taller than her. Onyx eyes shifted towards her, narrowing and studying her like a target, this ebony hair loosely tied back and strands fell into his face.

The dark skinned one now spoke, his voice matching his brother’s if less snarky sounding. “It’s the girl Maeve wanted us to find, she’s proving rather troublesome to get, however.” He gave her a sharp look, she returned it with a gesture she learned from Aelin.

The man looked at her again, lifting a brow, even a small smile grew, as if mocking her for fighting back. “Just knock her out and drag her back.” He said the order with no remorse, no emotion, it chilled her to the bone.

“Maeve wants her unharmed.” The light skinned one rejected, and Anoran couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her.

The man just scoffed and began stepping forward, “I doubt a little hit on the head will permanently damage her-”

“Touch me and I cut off you hand!” Anoran threatened, dagger raised and magic rising. The man stopped, only a blink revealing his shock. The light skinned one gave a sly smile, even a soft chuckle, but his eyes were something... different. Something Anoran could not make out.

The man’s words were complete mockery now, “With what? That little thing?” His arms crossed, revealing his ridiculously muscular biceps. She swallowed but did not allow her face to show nervousness, she would use this little dagger to cut him to pieces if he took one more step.

Two more faes now joined, one tall and thin, the other about average with golden hair tied back like the others. There was tattoos along the golden hair’s neck, it smelled fresh, and looked like those her father had. It bobbed as he sniffed her, eyes widening.

“Lorcan, I would step away from her.” His warning sent the others to turn his way, brows raised in shock.

Lorcan did no such thing, shrugging, “And why would I do that, Gavriel? She’s a girl that wandered too far from home, I doubt she is trouble.” Gavriel’s eyes shifted between them all and beyond, as if watching for something, someone to come charging from the darkness.

“Do you really no smell it?” His question sent confusing in the other’s faces. “Take a good whiff of her, is there a scent about her that seems familiar?” So this was all the Cadre, and if they realized who she was... They turned, nostrils wide as they took in their scent, unable to get past the blood and vomit that coated both her and them.

But then she saw it, a gust of freezing wind clashed into all of them, sending them staggering, a warning blast for them.

From her father.

“Dad!” She called and charged for Rowan, Aelin a step behind him. She gripped him tightly, but he carefully yet powerfully pushed her behind him, to keep her safe with Aelin. The Cadre’s eyes were wide, mouths gaped as they took in the scene, at Rowan stalking towards Lorcan who couldn’t seem to stop blinking.

A growl was thick in Rowan’s throat, ice coated his hands as he gripped his sword, ready to kill whoever dared to touch his daughter, even if it was his companions. The others laid a lazy hand on their weapons, but they did not know what to do if it came to blows, who would they aid?

There was silence, tension so thick around them ancient warriors, but Lorcan finally spoke in a low tone. “Rowan, if Queen Maeve wishes to see her, you know we cannot deny-”

“You will not touch her,” Rowan warned. “None of you will touch her and Maeve will not see her. She is staying here, where she will be safe and cared for.” His forest green eyes stayed locked on Lorcan, but Anoran knew he was watching them all, making sure they stayed far away from her.

“Rowan, you know what the consequences will be.” Gavriel stepped beside the warrior, his face more thick with worry than anything else. “I’m sure Maeve would never dare to harm her.” Anoran gulped, Aelin held her hand tighter.

Rowan must have heard it, because he replied. “I do not care. I have been separated too far from her, never again will I put her in danger, never again will I leave her defenseless.” Anoran’s heart sank, he is saying it like she is her mother, his mate.

“Then bring her with you,” the light skinned one objected. “What if those soldiers decide to attack again? You won’t be there to protect her, bring her with you and hold her hand the entire time if you damn wish. I doubt Maeve is stupid enough to try anything while you are with her.” Rowan was silent, but his face gave away nothing.

“Get back to Dornalle, I’m sure her Majesty is already pissed you’ve been gone long enough.” Rowan left it at that and turned, draping an arm around Anoran’s shoulder and leading her away from the Cadre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Projectnelm for allowing me to use their fabulous art! You can see all of their amazing art on their Tumblr art here: http://projectnelm.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Road to Dornalle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is over, now Rowan and Aelin must depart with Anoran for Dornalle, but something during the night sends her off to meet them in the city of stone and rivers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a while...  
> My bad. But it's almost winter break so expect more chapters coming!

Rowan would not leave Anoran’s side until he saw the Cadre leave, only Gavriel was left, but even while the Lion kept his distance, Rowan would steer Anoran away from him while she worked. Anoran worked to heal the rest of the injured, Rowan got the other healers out of the room and they began to move the injured to the healing ward.

Bas was the rat, and despite his complete idiocy of betraying his people, he did not try to fight when Rowan caught him. Anoran and Emrys comforted Luca, the pupil still had his eyes wide with disbelief when Rowan informed him.

Night fell, Aelin and Rowan saw Gavriel out of Mistward then joined Anoran, Emrys, and Luca for dinner. The meal was silent, everyone secretly thankful that the casualties was not too many, and thanking the ones responsible.

“Aelin and I are traveling to Dornalle tomorrow at dawn,” Rowan casually informed, sipping his wine.

Anoran gave him a very worried glance, her stomach suddenly empty. “Are you sure that is a good idea? I-I mean Maeve could use you both to get to me, or-”

“It will be alright, darling,” Rowan soothed, his calloused and scarred hand grabbing hers. “We will be alright, she is more focused on Aelin, on her training at the moment.” He knew something, something that Aelin did not even know judging by her furrowing brows.

Anoran sighed, they would be okay, she reminded herself, but she needed confirmation. “Just... promise me you both will come back, okay? Especially you, Aelin. I want to see goodbye before you leave for Adarlan.” Aelin swallowed hard, the memories of the war tattered land spilling in, but she smiled and made a snarky comment that made Anoran copy one of her vulgar gestures, Rowan then reminded himself to keep those two separated so Anoran does not pick up Aelin’s other traits.

The three made it back to their rooms, Anoran gladly putting on her very soft pants and shirt and unbound her white hair. However, a knock was soon heard at her door, she opened it to reveal Rowan standing there, hands slack at his sides, and his eyes were puffy and red.

“Is something wr-” Anoran could not finish her sentence before Rowan brought her into a hug, pressing her face against his shirt.

Rowan held her for a long time, whispering, “I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of what you did today, your mother would be as well.” He tilted her head back so he could gaze into the heart-breaking familiar eyes, stroking her cheeks. “She cared for everyone, just like you, she always made sure everyone was happy and satisfied with whatever it was. And even if she could do nothing to help them, she would find a way to bring joy to them. Never forget that, never forget the traits you got from your mother, it is a rare one.” Anoran now had tears flowing down her cheeks, rarely did he talk about Lyria, she knew it hurt him so much. But to know that her caring personality came from her mother, his mate... She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest.

It was not until each of their tears were dry did Rowan kiss her forehead, telling her goodnight, and left for his own room.

She climbed in her own bed and gazed out the window, letting her eyes fall heavily into sleep.

Rowan and Aelin left just as the sun was rising, Rowan was a protective mess over Anoran, but Aelin nagged him through the gates about how Anoran would be more safe then they would be. Which left Anoran to then worry about her father and possibly only female friend being injured or killed by that bitch of a queen. She tried to drive her mind away from those dark thoughts, to focus on those still needing healing, learning what she could from the healers, how her magic could be used to help them. The men were overly thankful towards her, something she was still getting used to, each man kissing her hands and thanking the Gods that she was sent here. The children were also very generous towards her, leaping into her arms and making her little gifts and cards as thanks. She even got a flower crown from one of the girls, bright pinks, yellows, blues, whites colored her head and brought out her pink cheeks and chocolate eyes.

Still, her mind wondered if she was alone, back towards her father and Aelin, how close they are to the woman who is hunting her down for Gods knows what. Emrys noted her drifting off while eating her dinner, deciding best to occupy her mind with stories. He told her stories as she ate, ancient ones that she has never heard before. Even Emrys was enjoying watching the child of Rowan get excited or scared or sad with the story, laughing silently, he knew she got Rowan’s soft heart.

It was late when Anoran finally crashed into bed, body worn out from entertaining the kids and helping wounded after wounded. She could still smell Rowan’s scent, pine and snow lingering, cause more and more dread. Her body finally gave out and slept, her dreams peaceful and deep for once.

* * *

 

Fenrys and Connall easily infiltrated Mistward, with everyone so out of focus on anymore threats and the ward stones broken the twins easily warped into the tower. They followed the scent of pine and snow first, Rowan’s scent, then led away towards jungles and rain to the room next to it, her room. The twins nodded, warping inside the door with ease, finding the passed out fae on the bed, her white hair sprawled on the pillows. Fenrys saw her, saw the tan skin, and felt the feeling again, like something was tugging on him. Connall quickly gave his brother a quick thump on the back of the head, dragging Fenrys away from his thoughts and towards the task at hand. Fenrys approached one side and Connall the other, Anoran was too deep in sleep to notice the heavy male scent around her.

In one swift movement Fenrys cupped his hand around her mouth, her eyes shot open only to be meet with blackness and a sense of falling. She panicked, swinging wildly but someone else was holding her arms. They landed in a clearing, the moonlight and candlelight revealing her two captors. She panicked again, trying to summon her magic but iron cuffs were clasped onto her wrists, then feet.

“You scream, we kill the cook.” The once cheeky, snarky warrior she meet yesterday was gone, his canines in full, horrible view and very close to her neck. She could barely breath, trying to comprehend what was happening. The tan brother hauled her up and brought her arms over the dark brother’s neck, the chains around her ankle unlocked only to have her legs forced around the brother’s waist and locked again. They gave no warning before running, out of Mistward and off towards Dornalle in speeds Anoran never experienced before. She tried to struggle, but the wind was struggle enough to keep her eyes open. Still she gave the brother all of the hell she could managed, trying to choke him or kick his stomach, even trying to bite him. Each time he avoided it, growling even as he trugged her arms forward. The tan brother noticed and between the two they stopped simultaneously, almost like some mental bond that connects the two. Anoran’s head slammed into the muscular back, but it was only a moment of peace before she was thrown onto the ground, iron cuffs still secure.

“You are definitely Rowan’s daughter,” Connall gruffed as he rubbed his neck where she managed to give a strong bite. Though it was Fenrys that Anoran was staring at, his towering olive body, wearing leathers that revealed his muscular body, his bow and quiver strapped to his back. He noticed her stare, eyes wide and mouth gaped almost in awe if they were not obviously laced with fear. A feral grin grew on him and he stalked towards her, kneeling beside her and looming over her, his arm braced on her sides.

“Like what you see?” His smile was worse up close, if not more handsome. The smile faded quickly, and he leaned closer, his mildew scent filling her nostrils. “We need to get you to our Queen before your father and little friend, which means you need to cooperate with us, and so if you do not...” His canines brushed against her exposed neck, her hairs rising and shivers sparked.

Suddenly, however, he drew back, his blinking eyes only revealing his shock, nostrils wide as he took in her scent. He quickly shook off his thought, the graveness in his eyes appearing again. “If you do decide to be a little bitch like your friend, it will make it harder for all of us, so do us all a favour.” He didn’t give her time to reply before he hauled her up and this time secured her around his back.

They did not break into a sprint again, but they kept at a steady jog to make up for lost time. Anoran’s adrenaline kept her awake, but gave her time to study her surroundings, track where they were going to map a path in her mind. It was difficult, hazy from the lack of practice with Aelin.

“I don’t understand why you would bother to help her,” Anoran did not know why she was bothering talking, but anger was boiling up inside her and she needed to let it out somehow. “That woman is cruel, and you bringing me to her is only helping her wicked plans.” She expected for them to jump to their queen’s defense, possibly even hit her for speaking ill of her queen.

But Connall simply replied with, “She demanded us to bring you to her, we cannot deny her orders even if we wanted to.”

“Besides, Queen Maeve is a lot of things, but a complete monster is not one of them. She will not harm you, she fears Aelin too much to lay a finger on you.” Fenrys added slyly, Anoran could feel his laugh in her chest.

Aelin would not be harmed, she knew that, but her father... “But what about my father? He did not follow her orders, threatened you.” The brothers were silent, giving each other a long glance, releasing a heavy sigh.

Fenrys explained slowly and carefully, “He... will be punished for his action. But all of us have been punished, I probably get punished the most.” His laugh did not help Anoran, the thought of her father hurt laid too heavily on her heart. “He will be alright, it takes a lot more than a couple of hits to break that stubborn bird’s spirit.” His voice was sincere, praising his commander and comforting Anoran.

The night carried on, her adrenaline wore out and she struggled to keep her eyes open, the rhythmic steps were not helping her either.

“Get your sleep, the last thing I need is a pissy Whitethorn on my back,” Fenrys muttered, his own voice weak and slightly slurred, but he needed to keep going. Anoran was hesitant at first, wondering if they will try to do something while she slept... maybe Maeve ordered them to kill her. “I promise that neither me nor my brother shall lay a finger on you undeservingly,” Fenrys sighed, almost disappointed that he needed to say that. It was enough for Anoran, and soon sleep took her.

Anoran awoke at dawn, but she was not on the back of Fenrys, instead soft grass was beneath her. She lifted her head, eyes wide in silent hope, but the sight of the two males chewing on their bread sank her heart.

Connall noticed her awake before Fenrys, and threw her a piece of bread, muttering. “Here.” Anoran did not touch the piece of bread, narrowing her eyes to him and giving a slight grown. He only rolled his eyes and held up his own bread, “Do you think we would have gone through the trouble of drugging you? Trust me it’s much easier to hit you over the head then find a sedative.” Anoran did not know what a sedative was, did not want to know, but she picked up the piece of bread carefully, sniffing it for any dangers before biting into it.

It was stale and plain, like nothing Emrys had ever made, but it what she was used to. Connall handed her stew next, more like water than actual food, but it was still nothing new.

“I’m surprised,” Fenrys chuckled. “Most princesses we capture and feed gag and refuse to eat anything not on a golden plate and freshly steamed.”

“I’m not a princess,” Anoran grumbled, devouring the rest of the water-stew.

Fenrys shrugged and noted, “You’re the daughter of Prince Rowan Whitethorn, which makes you at least a lady,” Anoran shifted at the mention of her being a lady, she had no background of being royalty, how to act or handle foreign affairs.

“Hell, if Rowan marries Aelin and she actually manages to become queen, you’d technically be a princess.” Fenrys said the comment nonchalantly, continuing to eat his food and fix his clothes, but Anoran tensed.

* * *

 

_“Gentlemen, tonight is a special bidding,” His voice rang through the lavished area, the smell of lavender and sex stung even here. “Tonight I introduce my finest creation yet-” his words were but a whisper in Anoran’s ears, who was currently surrounded by his men to make sure she did not try to run off. She was dressed in the most scandalous clothing she’s over worn yet, practically see through white cloth over her breasts and legs, her stomach, back, and upper chest lay completely bare for men to see. The cloth around her legs only covered half of her ass and only went to her mid-thigh. The cloth was decorated with golden bells and rings and a necklace like a collar. Her makeup was only to accent her fae features, and a golden crown lay on her head. For Esbern, she reminded herself, for him and his family. For the money she will get to support them and repay what they have done for her._

_“May I present to you, the Fae Princess,” the cheers erupted as she was guided out to the stage, and only grew louder as they caught her miserable outfit. A princess, because princesses are just for show, he explained to her last night. Princesses just sit there and look pretty for her father and mother and gladly accept whoever they chose into her bed. A princess is essentially the richest whore there is. The bidding when on as she stood silently and smiled, struggling to keep her tears at bay as she was sold off to some old, bearded man like a pig._

_And that night while she was forced to pleasure him, he called her a whore and disgrace to the fae race, that she was here to pleasure mortals for a reason. All while she still bore that beautiful golden crown, and said nothing like a good princess._

* * *

 

“Anoran!” Fenrys’ voice dragged her back to the sun peaking over the mountains, to the soft grass beneath her, and the two fae males now before her, examining her carefully. The iron chains were off and thrown aside, her cheeks wet from her silent crying, her hands around her knees and her body shaking, she was rocking herself, she realized. “What the hell happened?” Fenrys held her cheeks with his calloused hands, examining her carefully for any hint of injury that may have been inflicted to her.

Anoran shook her head, forcing the horrid memories out and stuttered, “I-I don’t know.” The twins knew it was a lie, it was obvious, but they knew better than to press on a delicate subject. They continued to look her over, magic tingled her skin as they checked. She pushed away, not wanting to be examined like a damaged horse. “I’m fine! Let’s just go,” she said nothing as she stood and began walking towards Dornalle.

The twins quickly caught up with her, but they did not stop her, put those chains back on her, or even touch her. They simply guided her towards the city, letting her set the pace.

Anoran kept drifting off into her thoughts, trying to make sense of what happened, but often times triggering more memories and the twins having to calm her down.

Fenrys, too, was often times lost in thought, most of the time while staring at Anoran and her beautiful structure. _Brother, stop this now_ , Connall’s voice rang through his head, a twin bond that is very rare and useful, _You and I both know what is going on with you. If this continues, if the feeling... manifests, Maeve will punish you_.

Fenrys gave a low growl and responded, _You and Vaughn are doing just fine! Why can’t I share those feelings_?

_Because we both know we are not-_ , Fenrys did not let his brother continue before stopping and gripping his arm, his eyes flaring in anger.

_Don’t say that word! Don’t say it. I’ll be fine, let’s just hurry up and finish the damn job_ , Fenrys turned caught up with Anoran, not waiting for his brother. Anoran did not seem to notice, or if she did, she did not seem to care. Which Fenrys did not blame her, after being kidnapped and carried more than halfway towards a woman that has not told her intention for wanting to lost daughter of Prince Rowan Whitethorn, he expected her not to give a shit about her captors.

Hours passed, Anoran was getting tired and lagging, and even after lunch she was quickly beginning to slow down again.

After Connall noticed their pace slow down for a third down, Connall turned and sighed heavily. “You’re either going to miraculously gain enough energy to make it to Dornalle by today, or one of us is caring you again.” Anoran did not stop, just kept walking ahead of him and Fenrys who now stopped. Connall gave a low growl and hurried towards her, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder and spinning her, but she managed to muster enough of her magic and push him back on his ass. Fenrys released a snort, Connall gave his brother a sharp glare and suddenly disappeared, causing Fenrys to roll his eyes.

Anoran tensed, ready for him wherever he appeared. Magic swirled and suddenly hands were shoving her to the ground. She rolled and gathered her magic, vines coming up and trapping him. It did not hold him long, for he disappeared again and reappeared behind her, holding her to the ground and she struggled for her magic. Through this whole encounter Fenrys did nothing, just stood and watch Anoran use her magic, her white hair sweep over her, and when Connall held her down, he swore he heard himself growl at him.

Connall gave his brother a glare, Fenrys gathered himself up and shrugged as he reached for the iron cuffs, “What? I was enjoying the show.” Connall rolled his eyes and took the iron cuffs, clamping them down on her wrists.

Connall lifted her, her legs kicking widely and managed to stomp on Fenrys’ knee, he barked in pain, but did nothing to her. Fenrys turned and Connall put her arms over his head easily, she went to bite him, but Connall was too quick. He got a piece of cloth and gagged her, sending her into a coughing fit. They tried to chain her ankles around his torso, but she still struggled, more out of panic than anger, and Fenrys could smell it. He held a hand up to  Connall, stopping him, he then lifted Anoran up over him and set her down in the grass.

“Hey, hey listen to me,” Fenrys gripped her shoulders, sending her back into reality. He could smell the panic in her that was from this morning. “You’re a fighter, you don’t give up easily, that’s good. But you need to know when you have lost,” Anoran blinked, her brows furrowing to why he would tell her this. “You are not going to win against the two of us, we are too strong and too experienced. So save your strength, just because we have to take you to Maeve does not mean we like it. We have to follow her orders, but that does not mean we have to be successful.” His devilish smile appeared again, Connall, though warning his brother, couldn’t help but agree. “So save your strength for the opportune time, screw Maeve over in the best way possible, you want to do that, yeah?” Anoran nodded, still quite unsure as to why he is telling her this. “Trust me, just have patience, I promise that you will be alright, and if you do this all correctly, you can enjoy the sweet look of utter shock in that bitch.” He gave a wink and she understood. “Now, can we take this gag off you without fear of you biting our ears off?” She rolled her eyes and nodded, Fenrys untied the knot and carefully took it out, like he was afraid he would hurt her. She coughed and smacked her tongue, relief swept over her.

Fenrys lifted her, kneeling down and allowing her to climb onto his back. Connall was quick to attach the iron cuffs on her ankles, but kept them loose to not harm her. The twins broke out into sprints, working to make up for the loss of time.

It was midday when they climbed the steep hills, the sound of people and animals distant in their keen ears.

“Welcome to Dornalle,” Connall mused and Anoran looked out. She saw the city of stone and rivers, its life vibrating off the ancient stones and into her bones, the water flowing quickly but easily. But Anoran was not paying attention to the beautiful flowers, to the cheery market, her attention went straight for the looming castle that watched over the city; where Maeve sat awaiting her. Be patient, she reminded herself, be patient and wait for father before destroying whatever plan she conjured.

With that the wolves descended down to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe, weren't expecting that were you !!
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos!


	8. Dornalle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have arrived in Dornalle, and Anoran must now face the female who ordered her kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick....ish update. Second semester is starting, but that means only 2 ap classes instead of 3, so maybe that'll help the speed of updates?? Who knows at this point I'm just trying to survive.

Dornalle is beautiful, Anoran is not denying that, but she still visibly showed her disgust for the place as she was led down the street. The twins took off the chains around her ankles, but kept those on her wrist, a requirement for any “prisoner” entering Dornalle. The large castle was coming closer, and fear began to rise in her stomach. By the time they reached the palace doors she felt almost too nauseous to stand. Her scent must of been strong enough, because Fenrys held her a little lighter, even giving her little circles on her back. It did little to help, however, she just kept reminding herself that Rowan and Aelin were coming, and no matter what, she would leave with them. Fenrys and Connall dragged her from her own when they could have just gone back and accept their failure, but they just had to please their Queen!

“Hey, look at me,” Fenrys spun her to face him just outside, what she could only assume, were the doors to Maeve’s throne room. “Take deep breaths,” He demonstrated breathing through his nose and out his mouth, slow, deep breaths. She followed and only then realized she had been clenching her jaw and balling her fists to the point where they were almost bleeding. “You will be alright, I promise, Maeve is a lot of things, but a complete monster is not one of them.” She wanted to believe the words coming from his mouth, but she saw the doubt in those dark eyes. Instead she focused on her plan, how to escape, how to tell her father that she is here.

She gave a nod to Fenrys, calming down, they turned and opened the door to the throne room.

Maeve sat on her stone throne, legs crossed and idly twirling her ink black hair. Anoran could not help but awe at the queen, sunlight illuminating her striking features. The other three Cadre were guarding her, only one, Gavriel, in his other form. Maeve stared at Anoran, the onyx eyes staring into her very being, judging her. The twins walked her to the center and knelt, bowing to their queen.

“Oh now that is no way to treat the great child of Rowan Whitethorn, get those cuffs off her,” Her voice was silky, beautiful if Anoran didn’t know where she was. Fenrys stood and unlocked the chains, the echoing fall rang in her ears.

Anoran did not let herself seem scared, terrified of the woman, instead she hissed low. “What do you want from me?” The queen laughed, not in mocking, but a seemingly genuine laugh.

“Why would I want to meet the daughter of one of my most powerful Cadre?” She leaned back into her throne, drinking Anoran in. “Oh I am very happy that I found you Anoran, very happy.” 

Anoran ground her teeth, stepping forward, “I don’t care how you found me or why you want me! I am the daughter of Rowan Whitethorn, I do not belong to you and I will never follow the orders from a bitch like yourself!” Anoran did not feel scared, she felt the opposite in fact, she felt empowered, furious towards this woman and she meant every word she said. The Cadre was deathly silent, Lorcan even releasing a low growl towards her, but Maeve did not drop her smile; in fact it widened.

“I see you picked up a few traits from Aelin, good I hate people who are weak.” Her voice deepened, richness seeping from it. “You, my girl, are becoming more trouble than you're worth. However, I will not let this single interaction define our relationship. You will bow to me in the end, everyone does, and if you decide to cause more trouble then...” She trailed off, glancing to her side where the Cadre stood. “Your poor father will have to face punishment. After all, I could never think of possibly harming such an innocent girl.” The red lips pursed, the white skin barely creasing. Chills raced down Anoran’s back, Rowan, she was going to hurt Rowan for disobeying, and it will be her fault.

“You will not touch him.” She was quiet, the threat coming off more of a plea, something she could not afford, she could not afford to look scared in front of this female.

Maeve laughed and waved a hand, “Oh and his precious little daughter is going to stop me? Face it, girl. You are weak, spineless, willing to do anything to protect anyone... or is that not the information I gathered from the city Tock?” Anoran swore her heart stopped, she knew, she knew what she had done... the things she had done and endured. “So, what are you willing to do to protect your father?” Anoran could not speak, her mouth was unable to form any words. Maeve knew, how long had she known? And how? Did she capture Esbern and his parents, or is she friends with Bastille? Her mind raced, her skin heating with the eyes staring into her. Something grabbed Maeve’s attention, something far off, and she sighed. “Oh well, looks like we will have to continue this another time. Lorcan, make sure she will not cause a disturbance. Fenrys, Connall, by me.” Then, just like that, the followed. Fenrys shifted into his white wolf and took his place by the throne, his eyes glazed over like a spell was over him. Lorcan marched towards Anoran, who had no time to react as one hand grabbed her wrists and dragged her to a corner. Anoran slammed her heels in the ground, twisting her wrists to be free of the mountain of a male, but nothing could stop the orders of Maeve. He pushed her in a corner of the room, a hook already placed above her. Dark magic suddenly surrounded them both, encasing them, and it felt like death. Lorcan was silent as he tied her hands to the hook with rope, not iron, but rope. Anoran noted some restrictions in his movement, lifting his arms too high caused a slight reaction of pain, he’s hurt.

“Did Maeve do that to you?” She did not know why she was bother asking him, but the words escaped her too quickly. He stopped dead and stared at her, his onyx eyes gazing, questioning, as if some part of him was wondering why the hell Anoran was even here.

He kept gazing at her, kept his voice to a whisper as he ordered. “It’s best you do not question things you do not fully understand,  _ girl _ ,” Anoran scrunched her nose to the word. But Lorcan sighed, looked behind him for only a second before turning, eyes darker, voice more demanding. “If you really care about your father, about Aelin and wish not to see them hurt. Do. Not. Show yourself. Please, do us all a favor and just... stay here.” Then she saw it, deep and hidden beneath all of that death and coldness that has always been with the tales of Lorcan Salvaterre, she saw pity. He pitied her, maybe even Rowan as well. He must have noticed almost hurt look because he stalked out of his own magic, having it close behind him and leave her alone.

Her mouth was still gaped, she knew the stories of Lorcan, the bastard demi-fae said to be blessed by Hellas himself. Esbern said he showed no emotion save for anger and bitterness, that his heart only beats when he is killing. She never believed him until that day in Mistward, when she saw the towering male give her such and icy look, still covered in red and black blood. But now, here, he showed pity towards a girl who only had a father to love. A girl who grew up on the streets doing gods-know-what to keep herself alive, while people spat and shoved her. Lorcan probably faced the same thing in Dornalle, he probably had to fight to stay alive and did horrible things while the pure blooded fae’s shoved him in the mud. She looked out into the darkness, as if she could see the male, her heart grew heavy with pity for him. She couldn’t help but think that maybe if he grew up with the stories she had, with someone like Esbern and his parents, maybe his heart wouldn’t be made of ice.

“My lady, Lord Rowan and Lady Aelin are here,” the guard’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, his steps silent and the door closed shut. Anoran blinked and her thoughts were gone, Rowan and Aelin were here, now. If she could get out of these ropes, she could climb the hook and leap over the magic, it’s not that tall...

_ Please, do us all a favor and just... stay here _ , his voice rang in her head like a warning bell. Stay here and let Rowan think she was safe back in Mistward, where she is safe. Stay here while he is possibly punished for his crime. No, no she could not do such a thing! If she had even the slightest ability to save her father, then she would! She began to rock, trying to get a grip on the iron hook, but her arms were too weak to support herself.

_ save your strength for the opportune time, screw Maeve over in the best way possible _ , Fenrys’ voice stopped her cold, wait, just wait. She took a deep breath, then another one, and another one as she let go of the iron hook, and as she released her fourth one, the door opened.

She stayed silent, pretended not the be there as she listened to the encounter, to Aelin push all of Maeve’s buttons, to Rowan saying everything Aelin told him and more from that cursed blood oath.

Her blood turned cold as she heard the whips come down on Rowan’s back, as she heard Aelin scream at Maeve to stop. Anoran couldn’t hold back her tears, she was letting her father down just like that, without even an attempt.

The world erupted into flames before Anoran could take in the heat, Lorcan’s barrier was gone, just like that, but the flames did not come closer. Shouts erupted around Dornalle, gods the entire city must be engulfed in flames! Anoran shoved the thoughts away,  now. Now was her chance. She breathed and mustered whatever strength she had left and gripped the iron hook, climbing up and up until she could hang her feet in the hook and bend back. She brought her hands close to the flames, letting it burn the rope while her magic protected her hands. The knot burned and she ripped the rest off, lifting up and leaping down back into her little cage. The magic was dying off, but Anoran’s magic was now building. She went through the techniques, digging down, down into her magic and mustering it all. Her anger built with it, the anger of her father treating her like a child, Fenrys and Connall kidnapping her when they do not even like Maeve. Maeve, just her being made her magic flare.

She knelt down, her muscles tensing and ready, the fire was sucked back into Aelin, and Anoran did not wait a second before leaping forward and shoving the Cadre back to the wall. Wind slammed them against the wall and vines quickly wrapped around their body, holding them in place. Rowan turned and saw her, his bare, bloodied back hunched, and his eyes glistened over with tears. The sight caused a cry from her, suddenly a vine around each of the Cadre’s neck, tightening. They hurt him, they hurt him and Aelin just because Maeve ordered them. She hated the bloodoath, Maeve, the Cadre, everyone. They could all go to hell and rot because no longer would she be useless to anyone.

“Shh, let it go. Let it go.” soft hands were on hers, gently pushing them down, the voice gentle and feminine. “That’s it, let them go, they were just following orders.” Aelin’s voice soothed Anoran, and slowly the hatred sunk back into her well along with her magic, the Cadre collapsed onto the floor, some gasping for air, others glaring daggers. She turned her head and saw Aelin standing there, the pale blue eyes examining her with worry.

“You... you kidnapped her... why? Why do you want her?” Rowan’s breathing was heavy, struggling to stand. Anoran was at her father, his arm around her and she helped him up. 

Maeve was furious, her lips were thin and she clutched the arms of her throne, eyes narrowing to Anoran. A growl from Aelin stopped her and she regained her composure.

“Why do I want your daughter? Because she belongs to me. You agreed when you took the oath that everything you own is now mine and I can do what I wish with them.” Maeve’s smile returned, but it was but a shadow of what it formerly was.

Rowan bared his teeth, hissing, “She... belongs to no one... Not me, and definitely not you.” Anoran could feel his magic building, but it would  not be enough due to his state.

“You want the ring? Take the ring,” Aelin suddenly spoke, slipping the gold ring off her finger. “If you want it, you must free Rowan from the blood oath and  _ never  _ touch Anoran again.” Anoran blinked, why was this ring so important? Why did Maeve want it, and why would Aelin give it to her willingly? She looked at the Cadre who have now regained themselves and now stood, stuck in their trance of duty, but Lorcan almost struggled against it. His face was twisted into disgust, eyes focused on the golden ring in Aelin’s palm.

“Deal,” Maeve bowed her head and turned to Rowan. “I hereby grant you free from my service with all honor. You are free to spend your life as you wish.” A cut formed on his arm and it bleed, a similar one on Maeve’s. “As for you,” Maeve shifted her dark eyes to Anoran. “On my honor, I will never lay a finger on you for as long as you live.” Rowan growled at her wording, for as long as Anoran lived, because Maeve assumed she will outlive her. 

Rowan began to limp towards Aelin, Anoran supporting him. He stopped before Aelin, struggling to knelt down before her, Anoran did not know what he was doing, but helped him all the same.

“Aelin,” he hoarsed out. “Please, let me take your blood oath. Let me serve you.”

“Father,” Anoran gasped. He was free, he could live his life as he pleased. Why would he willingly take another blood oath, even if it was Aelin. She felt even more hurt when Aelin agreed, and let Rowan drink her blood. Aelin took Rowan’s other arm and draped it around her, them both helping him out of the throne room. There were so many things she wanted to do, say. Yell at him father for taking another blood oath, yell at Aelin for allowing it. But he was exhausted and she would need to see to those wounds.

So for now the three headed out of the castle and for an inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos, always helps my motivation!!!
> 
> Again follow my Tumblr (qtipping.tumblr.com) for updates!


	9. The Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Aelin has confronted Maeve, released Rowan from the bloodoath, and promised to leave Anoran alone; they must begin for the journey that Aelin must take. But will she go alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: not that exciting, but it is rich with the feels. So have fun!

The inn keeper was more than happy to lend two rooms and medical supplies, especially after the flash of gold and teeth from Aelin. Anoran began cleaning up Rowan, bandaging his back and applying salve. Rowan tried not to wince, but occasionally a grunt escaped when she treated a particular deep wound. Aelin brought up food for them, Anoran did not want to risk moving Rowan from the floor, so Anoran and Aelin sat beside him, food spaced out before them. They ate in silence, but all were glad to have a warm meal.

Anoran listened to Rowan’s breathing, making sure it was steady, but it was sucked in as he rasped out, “I know you did not want me to take the blood oath.” He said nothing more as he stared off, not in shame, but exhaustion.

“You were finally free,” Anoran mumbled bitterly, there was no point in holding in her anger now.

“I know,”  a deep breath.

Anoran snapped her head to him, eyes bewildered. “Then why willingly enslave yourself?” There was no other word to describe it, willingly letting your body and soul belong to someone else, letting them order you to do anything. Aelin said nothing, she would probably take it away if he asked, no questions asked. But Rowan turned and attempted to place a hand on Anoran’s shoulder, but the pain and bandages restricted him. Anoran moved closer, allowing him to do so.

He was quiet for a bit, collecting his thoughts, then he spoke quietly, a father lecturing his daughter. “For fae’s, being chosen to take a blood oath is the highest honor a warrior could have. It means that the person trusts you with their life, with their blood, and you trust them to use that bond for good. Fae males like to feel useful, we like to be ordered and told to do something, especially if we believe it is for a good cause. What Maeve offer was a sliver of that, she used us for her own gain, constantly abusing the bond just to prove she was powerful. I know you believe I am giving up my freedom, taking the blood oath, but the truth is I have never felt more free.” Anoran listened, and though she understood, she still did not like it.

“Come on,” Aelin lifted, stretching and yawning. “We’ve all had a long day and I am ready to either drink and start a bar fight, or take a good nap, I haven’t decided yet.” She gave Rowan a wink, and he simply rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, but Anoran chuckled. They cleaned the plated and set them outside the door, the three went down to the bar and found a table, Rowan and Aelin had mead, but Anoran never like the taste of that stuff. 

Anoran sat and listened, listened to their banter and the loud cheers around the inn. They were all faes, no humans to be seen as they smiled and drank, and it did make her feel at home. At one point a women came and sat on Rowan’s lap, obviously looking to bed him. Rowan politely declined, but it was Aelin to snapped at the woman and scared her off, which Anoran was all too happy of. 

Faes are just like humans, she reminded herself, they get drunk and have sex and all of the other human-like things. Knowing that, she increasingly got more uncomfortable with it all, no longer feeling that slight safety. Rowan noticed this and suggested that they retire for the night.

Anoran slept with Rowan that night, claiming that it was to check his breathing and see if she needed to apply more salve, but it might have also been because she missed him. Rowan was more than happy to drape an arm over her and hold her close, breathing in her jungle and rain scent. There was little rest for them however, for Aelin soon had to get on a boat back to Adarlan, to find some way to deal with all of this. 

“Why can't we go with her?” Anoran questioned, fixing the pack Rowan gave her for the journey back to Mistward. 

Rowan sighed, eyes lingering on Aelin securing passage, “Because I must find information that will help her, secure allies.”  _ Because you have the blood oath _ , Anoran wanted to say, but decided not too. Aelin stalked over to them, cloak already fastened, a shadow in the dark. 

“Everything is ready, you sure I cannot convince you to tag along?” Her smirk was wild as always, but her eyes were glistened and grieving. 

“I need to make sure Maeve will not send an army to kill you for nearly burning her people,” Rowan bantered, but he barely revealed a smile. 

“I'll miss you,” Anoran smiled warmly to Aelin, giving her a light hug. “I'll be sure to piss Rowan off for you.” Aelins laugh filled her chest and she gave the young fae a light kissing her head. 

“Darling,” Rowan interrupted, laying a hand on Anoran’s shoulder. “You're going with Aelin.” Anoran turned cold, not the ice that Rowan used, protective and comforting, but a deadly ice that struck her in her heart. 

It was a while before she had the breath to speak, “what?”

“Rowan what the hell! She will be much safer with you,” Aelin objected, stepping forward to the fae male. 

Rowan sighed heavily, stroking Anoran’s arm, studying her as if this was the last time he would see her. “Maeve will be after you, she promised to not touch you, but the rest did not make that promise. I do not want you to be hunted, not anymore. You're going with Aelin, she'll need a healer for all the stupid shit she will do.” He tried to lighten the mood, to convince the two it was a good idea, but he could not. Speaking the words hurt just as much as hearing them, if not more, he just got his daughter back, and was not sending her away to one of the most dangerous places in Erliea! 

“Come here,” Rowan whispered, extending his arms for Anoran. She wasted no time embracing him, wrapping her arms around him body and holding him close. Rowan did the same, at first looking towards Aelin, who, though had her typical look of disgust and disbelief, knew it was the right thing and nodded in approval. “I love you more than life itself, darling. When I first laid eyes on you, I knew how special you were, how special you still are to me. It pains me more than death itself to have you leave me once again, but I promise I will return to you.” He waited, waited to hear the screaming and denial and shouting that she did not want to leave. However, instead he just heard quiet sobs, her shoulders shaking and hands losing their grip. He tightened his grip, one hand pressing her head against his chest, the other secured over her back. He stood there for as long as he could, waiting until he saw the sailors ready the boat and the sails dropping.

“I promise I will return to you,” He claimed again, kissing the top of her head. She slowly unraveled herself, her red eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tear streaks. Rowan drank her in one last time: taking in her scent, her warmth, her skin. He could feel tears coming to his own eyes, but a hand on his shoulder distracted him enough to hold back the tears and look.

Aelin stood, eyes dark and face hard, she nodded towards him and spoke in a low tone. “I promise, on my life, she will be protected from all dangers.” Rowan gave a small smile and nodded, he knew she was serious, that she would never put Anoran in such danger.

“Be safe, please don’t do anything stupid or I will personally kick your ass.” Rowan teased, this time it was Aelin’s turn to tear up. 

Anoran watched the encounter, how Rowan seemed to relaxed with Aelin, those past months they spent together, before she arrived, must have been blissful and friendly, and then she came along... No, no she will no longer think of herself as a burden, she is done with that.

“We must be off,” Aelin turned and nodded towards Aelin, Rowan gave the two most important women in his life one last hug, then waved them goodbye as they boarded with their belongings.

* * *

 

Anoran had never been on a ship, and now she understood why. The waves rocked and bumped her at all hours of the day and night. Several times she got sick, hurling her stomach into the deep blue sea. Aelin stood by her each time, rubbing her back and making sure she was alright. She felt guilty each time, making Aelin babysit her, but Aelin each time just repeated how she did not mind and, in fact, faced worse.

Anoran believed her, but she did not know with what, she’s seen those awful scars, scars now decorated with the tattoo Rowan gave her. But who could do such a thing to a woman, assassin or not? It had been a week of long traveling and hard workouts before the day they crossed into Adarlan territory, and felt it.

It felt as if Magic was sucked from her very body, all of the magic and things that made her fae gone, only leaving a shell. Aelin shifted back into a human, struggling for breath as well. She swore awfully, clutching her chest, but Anoran couldn’t even speak. In and out, in and out. Over and over again, gods how do humans do this?

Aelin saw Anoran struggling, regaining herself and walking over to Anoran’s cot, “Just keep breathing, it’ll become natural,” Aelin sat beside her, a hand on her back and chest, walking her through each breath.

Anoran followed, finally able to get enough air to speak, “Thanks... for everything.” 

Aelin smiled, shrugging. “I’ve had to put up with your whiny father for months, I can handle a girl who at least says thank you,” Anoran blinked in utter disbelief, she knew they must have had banter, but that was just... insulting. “What?” Aelin tilted her head, taking a deep breath as she forgot to breath herself.

“You... I thought you and Rowan got along just fine, I thought the bickering was just friendship bickering?” Anoran shook her head, it suddenly became dizzy and she could not decipher from what. Aelin’s roaring laugh brought her back, Aelin was clutching her stomach, tears forming in her eyes.

After she managed to regain herself, she denied, “Oh by the gods no! Rowan and I absolutely hated each other when we first meet, and it lasted for a long while!” Again, Anoran blinked, no, there’s no way two people who acted so perfectly together could have started out resenting the other! Aelin caught her expression again and smiled, “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to tell the story, easy way to pass the time as well.” 

So Aelin retold the story of her in Wendlyn, completely drunk and grumpy. Meeting Rowan in a back alley and him dragging her off to Mistward. Anoran listened intently, her breathing becoming second nature as she was immersed in the tale. Rowan was... an ass. Well, Aelin was too, but Rowan was a type of cold and hatred that she’d never seen from him. She supposed when they first meet, but that was most likely out of caution. Here he, he was just cold and lost. Aelin told about meeting Gavriel, about the fight, about her leaving and the two being chased by Skinwalkers. Then about the mountain, and Luca, and the disgusting sea creature who tried to kill them. Anoran could not believe what she was hearing, it was something straight out of a book! Two complete opposites being forced to train and hating every moment of it, to the slow bond of friendship and trust. So by the time Anoran came along, Rowan’s already warming heart was able to feel love for a child. Anoran let the story ring through her head as she slept, the truth that it was Aelin, not necessarily her, who began the work of humanizing Rowan. She remembered when they looked at each other, complete trust in their eyes, able to hold entire conversations without uttering a word. She did not care if Rowan already had a mate, if he swore to never find love again, the two were in love.

Anoran smiled and laughed giddily every time she saw Aelin now, which of course raised questions, but she did not dare tell. She watched Aelin more and more as the second week went on, wondering if a fae could have more than one mate.

However, as she exited the cabin one day, she saw Aelin staring out, her breathing shallow and tight, she was scared. Anoran approached her carefully, steps light, but Aelin simple extended a hand to reveal a black cloak, one that matched what she was wearing.

“Put this on, make sure the hood covers your ears,” Anoran took the cloak, now seeing Aelin in her black leathers, daggers and knives littered her body. As she began fastening it she looked out and saw it, the sun gleaming off a giant object, practically hiding the city beneath it.

Rifthold, and the Glass Castle. They were here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed that mediocre emo trip! Honestly, I'm way better at writing fighting n deaths n what not. 
> 
> Still, let's pray I can update quickly!!


	10. Arrival in the Mortal World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long journey, Anoran and Aelin have arrived in Rifthold, and Anoran finds herself looking in a mirror to the past mortal city she grew up in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to pump this one out before testing starts! Thank you all for being patient with me, y'all are the best!

Rifthold looked much like the mortal city she grew up in, at least in terms of buildings and vendors and such. She guessed that mortals often have the same idea for cities, at least if you want to keep the people safe. She wanted to ask Aelin so many questions about Rifthold, so see how exactly similar it was, but Aelin has turned into a different person. She wrapped a cloak around Anoran, situating the hood so it covered her eyes and ears.

“Follow me and keep your head down, do not draw attention to yourself,” Aelin whispered, even her voice was different. More... mortal almost. Anoran nodded and followed without question, if anyone could guide her through a mortal city undiscovered, it was the woman who spent her life among them. They passed through the crowds with ease, the only trouble being Anoran herself wanting to study the people and peruse the vendors. Now is not the time, she hissed to herself, just follow Aelin.

They quickly reached the slums, and Anoran swore these slums were the exact same as the ones in the mortal city. With Tock being surrounded by jungles and Rifthold surrounded by oak trees, the only difference was the dress of the miserable people and the wood used in their shambled homes. Night was quickly falling, and Anoran had to rely on her fae instincts to follow Aelin as they went deeper and darker into the slums.

Finally they reached an entrance to some sort of tavern, if the laughter and shouting inside had any indication. Aelin searched the rooftops and gestured to one nearby, “Climb up to the roof of that building, when you see me leave, follow me. Though I might be running so be sure to keep up,” Aelin winked towards Anoran, her bright blue eyes dim in the meek place. Anoran shifted, it was not her climbing and waiting on top of a roof that bothered her, but letting Aelin go in there alone.

“Will you be alright?” Anoran felt herself asking, unable to help herself.

Aelin laughed and placed a warm, comforting hand on Anoran’s shoulder. “I’ll be just fine, you forget that I am technically Adarlans Assassin.” Right, she was an assassin for all those years training in stealth and murder.

Anoran looked back to the entrance, the iron door vacant and looming. She nodded slowly, backing away from the entrance as if backing away from a dangerous animal. She climbed the building, her fae body easily lifting her up to the roof. Aelin waited until Anoran had disappeared in the night, nothing but a dark shadow on the dark roof. 

Anoran waited on the roof, studying the door and waiting for Aelin to lunge out covered in blood with blades drawn. Yet that didn’t happen, so she instead looked up at the array of stars, trying to pick out constellations while trying to ignore the retched smell that coated the roof. It felt like hours she was up on that roof, waiting and listening, stretching and yawning as the night tolled. Finally she heard fighting, muffled shouts and cries from the inside, the iron door the only thing keeping them inside. She looked over the roof, seeing men in dark hoodies enter and with swords drawn. Anoran cursed under her breath, how could she not have heard them? She knelt on the roof now, watching tentatively for Aelin to burst out. The shouts were still happening when she opened the iron door and ran out, covered in blood like Anoran expected. Only she was smiling, a wide and wicked smile was across her lips. The hooded men ran after her, Anoran watched her smash through the front of the building, shouts quickly erupted and Anoran tried to see where she was. She heard Aelin getting closer and closer, she must be climbing to the roof. 

Anoran turned as Aelin busted through, and up close Anoran could see the gleaming white teeth reflecting moonlight.

“Let’s go!” Aelin shouted, leading Anoran towards the other edge of the roof. Anoran skidded to a halt as Aelin lept, not towards another building, but to the ground, and Anoran could hear her ankles bark in pain. Aelin looked up and saw Anoran had yet to leap, and the men were getting closer. “Anoran jump!” Aelin shouted, Anoran looked back, the men reached the roof and slowed as they saw her, mischievous smiles as they stalked towards her. She looked back down and saw Aelin had lifted a sewer grate, they were going to hide in there. Her mind went completely blank as she spun and leapt off the roof, arms outstretched to keep her feet down. She prepared for the breaking of bones, to crumble to the floor in pain, instead she felt hands grip her underarms and swing her, easing her fall. She had no time to take in what just happened before she was pushed towards the hole and practically shoved down the ladder. Aelin came shortly after her, moving the grate back in position. She gripped Anoran’s hand and led her away from the hole, going deep within the disgusting sewer. Aelin stopped and so did Anoran, waiting with panting breaths, listening to see if the men would follow.

“Those men... they were valg, weren’t they?” Anoran questioned with a near silent whisper, she could smell the familiar stench on them, and Aelin was covered in the similar black blood.

Aelin simply nodded as an answer, too tired from being confined to her mortal body. Valg, here in Rifthold, how many of the guards were valg? Could they trust anyone within the castle now?

Aelin began leading the way, despite Anoran being able to see far better than her, so she simply told Aelin when turns and intersections were coming up. 

Anoran had no idea where they were, her sense of direction completely faltered, and the smell only made it worse. 

Anoran couldn’t even smell the figure in the shadows, only hear their steps and hear them draw a bow.

“Aelin!” She shouted and instinctively moved in front of her, protecting her with her body. 

Aelin stopped Anoran, drawing her sword on the stranger, but the stranger suddenly spoke. “Aelin? Aelin Galathynius?” Anoran went red, did she just give away her secret? Did she manage to screw everything up this quickly? Aelin was not phased and simply nodded, tightening her grip on her sword. The women lowered her bow, features still hidden, but Anoran could tell she was tall and lean. “Come with me,” the women ordered, and turned, leading them further into the sewers. 

Aelin and Anoran followed, Aelin in front, her sword still by her side, waiting for the attack.

It was, in face, Aelin who attacked first, slamming the woman against the wall with a dagger against her throat. “Start explaining, now!” Aelin growled, making sure to keep Anoran away from the confrontation.

Anoran let them bicker it out, she kept her eyes and ears strained for any signs of danger, but besides the rank smell of the sewer, there was nothing.

She continued to lead them further in the sewer, shouts and clashing steel now reached Anoran’s ears, and she noted they were going... towards the source.

She leaned towards Aelin, trying to keep her voice low enough so the woman wouldn’t hear, “We are going towards fighting.” Aelin nodded, and soon she heard it as well. She drew her sword, but the woman just stood strong and watched the shadowy figures descend the stairs.

Men and women were running, most in common clothing with soldiers helping them. Black blood stained their swords, Valg. Anoran gagged at the horrid smell, both due to the Valg and the people, prisoners no doubt. Aelin watched them all carefully, looking for one wrong move, one threatening glance towards Anoran. Then she dropped her arm, her body went numb as she saw the muscular man at the steps, helping a wounded prisoner down the steps. He saw her too, and in the firelight Anoran could make out the long scar that traveled down his right cheek. 

He handed the prisoner to another soldier, obviously the leader based on his dress, giving orders in a harsh, experienced tone. He caught Aelin’s glance, then it was his turn to gawk at the sight.

He limply walked down the steps, sword loose in hand. Aelin absent-mindedly held out a hand over Anoran, guiding her into the darkness.

The man looked Aelin up and down, as if questioning if she was a dream, but his face was solid and cold. “Are you hurt?” Anoran heard Aelin sigh at his voice, and she looked at the man longingly,  _ they were lovers _ . Anoran studied the man, he looked tired both physically and mentally, dark circles clung to his eyes and his hoarse breathing only added to his exhausted physic. The woman did not mention Anoran, or give any indication that she was present, and the man never noticed her. 

“ _ Faliq _ ,” The growl brought Anoran back from her daze, a shiver running down her side, but Aelin did nothing that would indicate she was there. Aelin seemed to be impressed with the name, recognizing it.

“How do we know she didn’t come here on his orders?” Nesryn narrowed her eyes to Aelin, calculating her every move. Anoran tensed, if the woman decided to fight, Anoran would step in, she had to do something than cower in the darkness while Aelin put her skin on the line for them both. 

Aelin gave her a lazy grin and a wink, “Trust me, if I’d come here on the king’s orders, Nesryn Faliq, you’d have been dead minutes ago.” Anoran believed her, she knew what she was capable of, not this mortal woman.

The woman left, leaving Aelin alone with her ex-lover. They talked some more, and Anoran was honestly getting bored, of course the guards were be Valg and of course they would just be after magic wielders and of course everything would be shit! They began walking within the sewers again, Anoran following silently, making sure the man did not notice her. They kept talking and talking and talking. Anoran was getting entirely bored with it all, and she had a very bad feeling about this guard, his stance was too rough for Aelin to have possibly liked him.

“I have to deal with this first,” he ordered, then jogged off into the sewer before Aelin could speak up.

Anoran finally came next to Aelin, watching the mortal stop loudly away and lifting a brow, “So, I take it you know him?” Aelin simply replied with a snort, then gestured with her head to follow. Anoran did follow, but realized quickly what was going on, “Wait, I thought he said not to follow him?”

“One crucial thing to learn about me,” Aelin grinned wildly. “I rarely ever do what people tell me to do.” Anoran smiled with her, feeling completely safe despite the dark and disgusting sewers that surrounded her. Aelin had survived years with mortals, Anoran remembered, she thrived like they did, Aelin will protect her.

They followed Chaol from the rooftops, Aelin explaining their backstory as they watched Chaol wind up and down slums and enter a warehouse. Anoran was in utter disbelief when Aelin mentioned they were past lovers, gods how could Aelin be with such a man? How could his coldness possibly match her wild fire?

He left the warehouse and they followed, Aelin instructed Anoran to come down after Aelin, slowly and quietly, keeping to the shadows like before.

“I think it’s best for you to remain hidden at the moment. We don’t want to overload him,” Anoran couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, loud enough for Chaol to glance around to try and find the source.

Indeed, Aelin lept down first and noticeably frightened Chaol, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. Anoran followed on the rooftops for a bit, listening to Chaol’s story, and then waiting for Chaol to become engrossed in Aelin’s story so that he would not notice her climbing down. And as Aelin was describing what had happened over the past months, Chaol was completely oblivious to Anoran leaping down and hiding behind them.

Again, Anoran followed, again she quickly grew bored and began to stare at the stars and the nicer parts of the city, admiring the work.

“So you came alone?” Chaol interjected, his rising tone snapped Anoran’s attention back to them, noticing his new rigidness.

Aelin sucked in her teeth, a sly smile growing, “Well not exactly,” Anoran figured that was her cue. She stalked out of the shadows and came next to Aelin, Chaol looking more pissed then interested in the girl. “Chaol, meet Anoran Whitethorn, daughter of Prince Rowan Whitethorn, Anoran, meet Chaol.” Aelin did introduction, Anoran gave a slight bow of her head, but Chaol did nothing in return.

Chaol instead turned back to Aelin, his eyes sharper, “That wasn’t what I meant, I meant you came back with no armies? No allies?”

Both Aelin and Anoran blinked, Aelin spoke slowly so Chaol would understand, “Did you not listen to what I was saying? Maeve is not who she seems, and she would never send anyone to help us-”

“What about Galan, your cousin? If he is truly a blockade runner like you said-” 

“If Maeve is not in allegiance, then she will not send Galan. And you leave my cousin out of this.” Aelin snapped, her anger running thin. Anoran stood straighter, eyeing Chaol down as he clenched his jaw, staring right back into her amber eyes.

“So you mean to tell me,” Chaol spoke softly. “That you just flounced around with your faerie prince, playing with magic, and just didn’t bother to warn us about the valg or anything?” His hand was twitching, Anoran could smell the anger in him, and stepped forward.

She morphed her face into pure fury, a face she has rarely seen her father make, and never directed towards her. “She did not have time to warn you about something you should’ve already been suspicious of! She was grieving and hurt and was struggling to even make it through the day! You are in no position to put  _ any  _ blame on her, for it was your doing, if I’m not mistaken, that put her in Wendlyn in the first place!”

“I put her there to be safe! Not to go dancing around playing with magic with your father. I thought she would at least be generous enough to warn us of the possible  _ demons _ coming-”   
“You have no right to speak to her that way,” Anoran seethed. “You have no right to put  _ any  _ blame on her, no blame on anyone but yourself! If you had possibly done your job in protecting the Prince, perhaps this could have been avoi-” A strong hand gripped her arm, forcing her close to Chaol’s dark and scarred face.

She could feel his hot breath on her own face, his arm squeezing hard enough to leave a mark, “Don’t you dare tell me what to do you faerie bitch!” He was going to speak more, but Aelin stopped him. She broke the hold on Anoran’s arm with ease, kicking Chaol against the crumbling building and pinning him, holding a knife to his throat.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Aelin threatened, digging the knife deep enough to draw blood, “In case you have not noticed, I am charged with making sure she stays safe. Which means I will kill whoever dares to try and harm you. So you touch her again, and you better pray her father is not around.” Chaol stared at Aelin, his past lover, his eyes wide in disbelief at the woman in front of him, the woman he once loved. She drew the knife away, nudging Anoran behind her.

They finished their walk, tensions still thick in the air and only grew heavier when Chaol refused to inform Aelin of how to bring magic back into the world. Chaol brought them to an abandon warehouse, or at least that is what Anoran thought, but when her and Aelin climbed the stairs to the apartment, it was a whole different building.

Anoran awed at the lavish furniture, the beautiful and coordinated colors that decorated the old and dusty room. She knew Aelin prefered a fancy living space, but  _ this _ ! Anoran knew she must have been Adarlan’s greatest assassin if she could afford all of this.

“You can have the guest bedroom, the bath is just through that door,” Aelin gave a short tour, mostly checking to see if anything was missing, and if there was anything left in the icebox. 

Anoran opened the door to her room, and even that was well coordinated in colors and cushions. However, questions still nagged at her mind, and she knew sleep would not come with them still running wild.

“How did you like him?” Anoran found herself questioning, studying Aelin who ate a rather poor dinner. “I mean, I could not possibly see you falling for that... mortal.” There was no other word to describe him, he was so angry and bitter. Blaming everything on anyone but himself, his walk so loud and... human.

Aelin sighed through her nose, eyes drifting off, “He wasn’t always like that. He was kind and thoughtful, yes mortal but you forget that is how I wanted to stay for the majority of my life.” Her eyes grew cloudy with memories, old memories that seemed like centuries ago. She turned to Anoran, the girls scrunched face, obviously confused and dumbfounded. “He was different, remember that. I know Chaol, I know he is just upset about losing Dorian, but we’ll try our best to get him back.That or... I will make sure he has a clean death.” He deserved that much, Anoran thought, based on what Aelin told Anoran of the Prince, he seemed kind and generous, not at all like his father. “Get your rest, I fear the days will only get more tiring.” Aelin spoke softly, knowing what lied ahead. Anoran turned and silently went to her bed, seeming to have come away with more questions and answers. 

Mortals, why must they be so damn confusing and single-minded, Anoran saw herself thinking as sleep took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not have been the most well written one I've done, but I don't want to bore you all with the dialoge you've already read and my brain is all wired towards Psychology, US history, and rhetorical analysis soooo
> 
> pray for me.


	11. On the Other Side of the World...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Testing is #done my dudes! Summer vacation is almost here, so expect chapters to be (hopefully) pumped out left and right!

Lorcan packed quickly, his small bag holding only the absolute essentials he would need: extra weapons, food, money, and one change of clothes. He looked out the window in his absurdly large room, it always seemed a bit too much for him, but when you are bloodsworn to the Queen of Faes he supposed you get those luxuries. The moon was still high in the sky, everyone would be asleep and not notice his absence until he was already out in open sea. He saw the docks far out, the boat that would hold him waiting, ready to leave only when he arrived. 

For her, he reminded himself, he was breaking her laws to protect her and serve her. Surely she would understand when he brought back the wyrd keys. 

He slung his pack over his shoulder, did a mental count of all his weapons, sword, knives, and axes strapped to him. He opened the window, the cool summer wind kissing his cheeks. He felt a presence behind him, instinctively he spun and thumbed out a throwing axe, ready to take on the intruder.

His grip only tightened when he saw Fenrys lounging at his doorway.

“Off so soon?” Fenrys quipped, a broad smile on his face. Lorcan only growled in response. “I’m not here to stop you, if that is your concern. I know I won’t win against you alone.” Fenrys shrugged and stepped into the room, taking in the surroundings, studying the awfully bare room. He clicked his tongue, “You really are not one for the lavish life are you?”

“What do you want?” Lorcan demanded, not moving from his position, his voice deep and low in threat.

Fenrys shrugged and sat at the chair before the table, “Simply wanting to know where you’re off to in the middle of the night, without anyone to back you up.”

Lorcan narrowed his eyes, studying the white wolf, “Why? So you can inform Maeve and finally get on her good side.” Fenrys actually laughed at that, and Lorcan knew that answer to his question. The two had always butted heads when it came to Maeve, for while Lorcan loved Maeve and would follow her to the depths of Hellas, Fenrys would gladly wring the Queen’s neck, if given the chance. Fenrys made not comment, his eyes drifting off towards the door, Lorcan dared to ask. “Where is Connall?”

Fenrys sighed heavily, venom on his lips, “Warming our Majesty's bed, she put me on guard duty outside her room, so I had the pleasure of hearing every little bit.” He locked his jaw, hands closing into fists.

“You know that is a great honor,” Lorcan advised. “Having a Queen take you to bed.”

“Not when you do not want to,” Fenrys mumbled, his face turning dark, a rare occurrence for the twin. He took several deep breaths, and suddenly his cheeky smile returned, “Actually, don’t tell me where you’re off to, I don’t want to be held accountable when Maeve throws a hissy fit.” He stood, made to leave, but stopped. Lorcan saw him shift his feet, something completely rare for the men of the Cadre, a sign of hesitancy and nervousness. He turned, actually bitting his lower lip, “Can I ask a favor for you?”

Lorcan blinked, never has Fenrys asked a favor, Connall would always have to drag him to either him or Whitethorn to just ask a question.

Lorcan placed the axe back in its holster, crossing his arms and shrugging, “Depends.”

Fenrys sighed heavily, but continued. “Just... look after the girl, Rowans daughter I mean. Just, make sure she’s alright.” Lorcan made no physical look of shock, but inside he ran questions about how Fenrys knew where he was going. He supposed it must be obvious, the fire-breathing-bitch-queen comes in and threatens his Queen, takes one of their best warriors, and leaves with a powerful weapon his Queen wished to have... Fenrys would be the one to guess right.

“Why? I’m sure that bitch queen and Whitethorn will already be watching her like a hawk... probably literally.” Lorcan gave a slight smirk, and Fenrys even huffed a laugh, their body's relaxing.

“I know, I know, I just... I want to be sure she’ll be alright, she’s a small girl, and I’m not even sure Whitethorn will be there to protect her all the time.” Lorcan noted the tone Fenrys was using, the gentleness when talking about the girl, the eyes gazing off as if he could see her... feel her. Lorcan stepped down from the ledge and moved towards Fenrys, the latter coming out of his daydream and watching carefully as Lorcan placed a heavy hand on Fenrys’ shoulder.

“Fenrys,” Lorcan started carefully, gazing into those golden eyes. “You know how Maeve feels about us... developing feelings over another. If she even assumes you feel this way for  _ Whitethorns  _ daughter-”

“She won’t,” Fenrys snapped, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “I have no feelings for her! I just don’t want another girl ruined by today’s constant darkness looming over us. I’ve seen enough innocent people get hurt or die because of the lack of protection, I’m through with that!” Lorcan listened, he knew Fenrys and Connall were still fairly young, have not fully explored the world, not fully understood it and its sometimes twisted ways. “Do this for me,” Fenrys grabbed Lorcans attention, “And I’ll make sure Maeve holds off on finding you for as long as I can. I’ll delay her with whatever bullshit I can come up with.” Lorcan thought, weighed the deal, who benefits from it. In the end, he held out his hand, and Fenrys took it.

Fenrys stepped away, a sly smile growing, “Good, now I’m going to walk away, and someone is going to come in and attack. They’ll knock me unconscious and you will in pursuit.” Lorcan rolled his eyes, always the dramatic stories with the twins, the clever plans and pranks that piss everyone off. 

Fenrys turned, taking his sweet time towards the door. Lorcan gave a shout as if someone had taken him by surprise, then Fenrys felt a heavy hit on the back of his head. He stumbled forward, black spots coming into view and ears ringing. He did not go down, and even laughed, “Oh come one! I thought you’d be stronger than tha-” another hit interrupted him, and this time he collapsed to the ground. Lorcan pulled the bag back over his shoulder and went back to the window.

Two objectives now, find the bitch queen and take the wyrd keys, and keep that girl safe... shouldn’t be too hard.

He lept out the window and made off towards boat, but though he kept reminding himself this was for his Queen, for the greater good, a pang in his gut told him to go back to his Queen. He ignored and, and by the time Dornalle could not longer be seen out in open sea, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something while I work on the next major part, brotherly bonding and what not.
> 
> Follow my tumblr (qtipping.tumblr.com) to get notices when I post a new chapter!


	12. Planning and Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to plan for Aedion's rescue, and Anoran must come to terms with her position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First update of the summer how exciting!  
> I doubt I'll finish before summer is over but there should be a definite increase in chapters!

For the next couple of days, Aelin required Anoran to stay in the apartment, she claimed it was for her protection, but Anoran knew it was just to avoid slowing Aelin down. She read the plethora of books shoved in the fine bookcase, wondering around the apartment and gazing at the beautiful dresses, then the variety of items in the icebox, picking out an apple and snacking on it while relaxing on the roof.

She watched the town down below, studying the slums close by and the urchins running around looking for scraps. She only had to do that once, during a hard winter when none of them could seem to find any work. It was after a rogue fae group had attacked, but they managed to fend them off, and for five years the people were very hostile toward her and Esbern and his parents.

The market place was on the other side, though several blocks away from the apartment, she could still clearly see and hear the vendors and their beautiful wares. She lounged on the roof throughout the entire day, staying up there even when the mysterious woman and the child entered the apartment, and the arguing that ensued during their visit.

Anoran entered the apartment when they left, comforting Aelin and letting her explain who this Lysandra was, and why what she said was so impactful.

“Do you think I should trust her?” Aelin murmured, her arm draped around Anoran as they stared at the crackling fire. Anoran looked up to Aelin, those golden circles illuminated by the firelight, the fire not nearly as bright as Aelin’s magic.

She shrugged, her hand idly circling Aelin’s and sighed, “From what I heard, when she told her story, I heard her heart beat evenly, and smelled grief and pain from her. I cannot tell you whether to trust someone or not, but I do not believe she was lying to you.”

Aelin said nothing, only staring deeply into the fire, as if waiting for it to give her guidance.

Aelin did not tell Anoran, but she assumed she forgave the Lysandra based on the amount of time she was in the apartment and they did not fight.

“So did you get your beauty from your father or your mother?” Lysandra questioned the first time they were introduced, her amused emerald eyes reminding herself so much of her father.

Anoran laughed nervously, shrugging, “Well I never met my mother-”

“Most likely her,” Aelin smirked. “I’ve seen Rowan and you _definitely_ did not get your beauty from him.” Anoran laughed more fully to that, she knew Aelin did not mean that... well hoped she did not.

“I shall be the judge of that,” Lysandra smiled, and the two went back to planning on the rescue of Aedion. Aelin let Anoran join them, giving any advice she could, but found herself just refilling their cups and keeping Evangeline entertained.

Chaol and Nesryn would join at times, the air always grew thicker when they entered, his eyes always narrowing on her pointed ears. Still, they got through it, and when it came time to appoint roles, Anoran found herself left behind again.

“Aelin let me help,” Anoran tried to not sound like she was begging. “I can take care of myself and what if he needs immediate medical attention?”

“Then we get him to you as fast as possible,” Aelin countered, her tone coming out more as a snap than she wanted it to be. Tired, they were all tired from the planning and preparations, stress weighing on all of them, but none more than Aelin. She sighed and took Anoran soft hands into her rough, scared ones. “I am not going to put our only healer at risk, darling. You probably have the most important job in my opinion, because I am trusting you to see to my cousin’s wounds and heal him. I know you think helping is only through battling and killing, but there are so many more ways you can help.” Aelin gave her a soft smile, and it did reassure Anoran, she supposed the Aelin was right, healers do not fight in battle, they stay behind to help the wounded. Even if Anoran desperately wanted to be trained, wanted to be in battle by her father’s side, she was happy stitching up his wounds as well.

She took out parchment, her mind suddenly scrambling with preparations, “Well if I’m staying here, then I’ll need some things for when I see to him.” She handed the list to Aelin, who looked over it and nodded, figuring out where she can acquire all of the items.

Aelin got her all of the items, string and needle for stitches, gauze for wounds, alcohol for disinfecting wounds, and herbs to help with pain and other things. The day arrived, Prince Dorian’s birthday, streamers and other festival decorations were all over the city, and all of the high class men and women would be in the glass castle for the huge party. There Aelin would disguise herself as a dancer, then a man who would save Aedion from the public execution. Anoran watched everyone leave in the early morning, her eyes lingering on Aelin longer as she made her way to the glass castle. The day went by too slow for Anoran, everything seemed to slow down, and it was killing her. The festival in the street lasted too long, people were too happy, just yesterday several men and women were executed in that square! Now they are smiling and dancing around, it is not right... mortal lands are not right. Finally the clock chimed twelve, and she knew the plan would start soon, if it had not already started. She readied the bed again, washed her hands for the fourth time, counted all of her supplies, and when she still did not hear the chaos ensue, she went through Aelin’s training. Balancing on the arms of the couch, going through ehr punches, anything to keep her occupied and useful.

Finally, she heard the shouts erupted, and she ran to the window, watching, waiting for the two heads of gold. She saw Aelin and Aedion about ten minutes after the shouts began, Aelin was supporting her cousin as they hobbled to the warehouse, the carriage must have stopped several blocks away.

Anoran went out and helped the man up the stairs, assessing his condition as they went. It was not good, but not horrible. There was a semi-clean infection on his side, the green skin around it still poisoning him despite the care it had been shown. She could feel fractured bones, several other cuts, but other than that, it looked like he would live. She placed Aedion down in the spare bed, his face exactly what Aelin would look like if she were a male.

Aelin did not leave the room while Anoran worked, despite Anoran’s order to let her work in peace. When Aelin, again, refused to leave, Anoran put her to work helping clean his wounds and what not.

The others came after another ten minutes, Lysandra kept Evangeline away and occupied her with books and sweets, while Aelin charged out and confronted Chaol for something else he probably stupidly did.

The voices outside were distant to Anoran, mumbles in fog as she worked, which was not necessarily a good thing is she wanted to be involved in battles. Her instructor, an older woman who did not seem to mind her being fae, chased her constantly for being too focused.

“You have to be aware of your surroundings,” she heard the rasped voice ring in her head. “You must know what is going on, what people are saying, for if something else is going wrong you must be prepared to take action!” Anoran tried, but she could not seem to do multiple tasks at once, and it infuriated her to no end.

Finally she declared herself done and left Aedion so he could rest. Aelin then stayed in his room, holding his hand and watching him sleep.

Anoran kept her distant, only interrupting when she wanted to switch his bandages or check his vitals. Chaol and Nesryn, thankfully, did not show, but Lysandra commonly came with Evangeline to keep Anoran company and plait her hair.

It was not until several days later did Aedion wake up, and Anoran sat and listened silently to Ashryver reunion, listen to Aelins sobs and Aedion’s soft, rasp voice. Anoran did not come in until Aelin allowed her to, she walked into the room and saw Aedion sitting in the bed, assessing his surroundings.

“So you are the daughter of the great Rowan Whitethorn,” Aedion smiled towards her, taking in her body. “It must have been quite a shock to find out who your father was.”

Anoran smiled back and shrugged, “I’ve always known who my father was, he just did not know I existed.”

“A beautiful woman like yourself, seems hardly impossible.” Aedion’s compliment sent a flush of red across her cheeks, but Aelin playfully shoved Aedion.

“Oh don’t even bother, Rowan would tear you apart if you even looked at like that.”

Aedion faced his cousin, a clever eyebrow raised, “But he would kill me if I looked at her with distaste,” Aelin nodded, and Aedion lifted his hands in defeat. “Well then what am I supposed to do? Not look at her?”

This time Anoran answered, “Probably not, because Rowan would kill you for not showing me the respect I deserve.” Aedion gave her a wild grin that reminded her of how related the two were, as well as their familiar laugh.

Anoran examined him, changing his bandages and questioning him on his health, and only when both she and Aelin agreed that Aedion would live, was he allowed to change his clothes and take a hot bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed and hope you have a wonderful summer!


	13. Special Suprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedion is refusing to listen to his healer, Aelin is stressed, Anoran wants some quiet time. So she sends the two off for a relaxing night... and they return with a special someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update that's within the same month?? How shocking!
> 
> Enjoy and happy pride month my fellow gays!!

Anoran kept a close eye on Aedion for the next week, and despite her demand that he remain in bed, his ignored her order and went into the warehouse to train.

“If you rip those stitches, I’m not doing it again!” Anoran folded her arms and watched the male go through his workout routine, already having labored breathing due to the weeks in the cell.

Aedion stopped to catch his breath, giving her a wide grin. “Well luckily for you, I have given myself stitches before and know just how healthy I am.” Anoran rolled her eyes and lifted from her crate, marching over to begin poking and prodding him, analyzing his condition.

“I promised Aelin I would look after you and make sure you were healthy, so if I have to tie you to the damn bed so be it. But I am not breaking that promise because you’re too stubborn to know when you must rest.” Her speech left him silent, the mention of his cousin still stunned him, still sent cracks through his heart to see her and touch her and smell her.

Aedion did not show his shock, however, he simply held her hands and gazed into those almond eyes. “Aelin knows just how stubborn I am, and she knows that tying me to a bed will only encourage me to try and do my training with a bed strapped onto me.” Anoran gave him a hopeless look, her eyes almost turning to hurt that she felt herself, once again, useless. Aedion caught this and quickly wrapped an arm around her, putting his weight onto her so she could help him stand. “Think of me as your trainee patient, I will give you all the things you might experience with other patients, and so when that time arises, you can deal with them properly. Besides, if you want to be a healer for soldiers, I suspect you are going to get a lot of men trying to charge into battle with beds tied to them.” She released a chuckle at that, guiding him to some abandoned chairs and easing him into one, letting him rest as she got him some water.

Aelin returned and Anoran gave her the report of how Aedion was doing, and after the two royals bickered, Aedion agreed to lighten his training for Anoran’s sake. Aelin updated them on her plans, on what was next and how they were going to achieve it, the two giving suggestions here and there. Nesryn joined them later to inform them on how the rebels were faring, what information they’ve gathered, and more. Anoran could quickly see Aelin was getting overloaded, too much was being placed before her, things she was not telling them, things she had no idea how to accomplish, and just overloaded with stress in general.

“Aelin,” Anoran grabbed her attention, the turquoise eyes slowly dragging their way up to hers. “You’ve had a long day, why don’t you go out and walk to the tavern with Aedion. He could use the fresh air just as much as you, and I would love to have the apartment free from whiney males insisting they are ready to take on an army of valg.” Aedion gave a sound of protest, but the two other women only laughed. Aelin sighed and nodded, her shoulders already seemingly less pressured by weight as she stood and offered Nesryn to join them, which she agreed to. Aedion changed and the three headed out, Aelin giving a small run down of what to do and what not to do while they were gone. Anoran rolled her eyes and shooed the three out, ordering Nesryn to make sure the two do not come back until they have had at least two drinks.

Anoran spent the time alone to reorganize, collect her healing supplies into a drawer in Aelin’s room, beside her side of the bed. Some nights she would wake up and still think it was her father in the bed beside her, but when she remembered it was Aelin, she was not disappointed, she would even move closer to her, clutching to the warmth that reminded her so much of her father.

She gazed at Aelin’s dresses, gawking at them all and yet finding each one ridiculous. She finally started the fire place and picked out a book among the plethora in the apartment.

Aelin and Aedion did have several drinks, then they meet up with Chaol to get an update on the valg and demanded more information on if he had an idea on how to destroy the clocktower, which he did not give. Aedion ended up having to calm his cousin down and lead her away from the toxic area, letting her walk the streets of Rifthold and letting the night air cool her down. The three were mostly silent, interrupted by small conversations or stories the two entertained Nesryn with about the two when they were young.

That pleasant silence was interrupted when Aelin charged down the alley towards the mysterious hooded figure, leaping into his arms. The pleasantness of it all was certainly interrupted when Rowan stalked towards Aedion, and the two held stares. Aelin broke to two up and the four now made their way back to the apartment, Rowan’s heart now thudding in his chest as he neared closer and closer to his daughter.

“How is Anoran?” He questioned, wanting a full report about every detail of her. How she was faring, how healthy she was, if she was clean, well fed, happy, and loved.

Aelin shrugged, “She’s perfectly fine you protective fae. She’s actually been the one keeping most of us alive and sane. She healed Aedion up when I dragged him back half conscious,” Rowan snapped his head towards Aedion, assessing his condition, and smiling with pride at how well his daughter did in healing him.

Aedion grinned wildly and began speaking before Aelin could stop him, “Yeah, she’s fitting along quite nicely in our little band of pretty fae’s. Although, Lysandra was definitely right in that she did get her good looks from her mother.” Rowan gave a soft growl both at the insult and the complement to Anoran, but the thought of her mother silenced him and quickly sent his thoughts into a spiral. Aelin gave her cousin a pissed look, and he understood he crossed a line and did not mention his mate again.

The two reached the warehouse, Aelin quickly lifting Rowan’s spirits with bad stories and even worse jokes. Nesryn said her goodbyes and left, Rowan now questioning Aelin as to why the Faliqs were so important.’

Anoran was too caught up in the book to identify the voices, she assumed it was just Aedion and Aelin returning, Nesryn probably leaving for her own home. However, the sudden horrid smell of shit, sweat, and all sorts of wretched things almost had her gagging as she sent down the book and covered her nose.

She heard the door open and immediately voiced her disgust, “Gods, did you two get a crate of dead rats on the way back-” she turned, expecting to see only the two wheat haired royals, but instead saw a chiseled man, tan, with forest green eyes and silver hair.

“Father!” She practically squealed and leapt into his arms, her body easily caught by the fae warrior who laughed, actually  _ laughed  _ bright and beautiful as he held his daughter. He held her, his head in the crook of her neck so he could scent her, the scent of jungle and rain, and let his heart calm with the knowing that she was here, alive and well.

He lifted his head and kissed her forehead, whispering, “I told you I would return.” Anoran laughed out a sob, clutching onto him as if letting go would send her spiraling into hell.

“Could you not have returned  _ not  _ smelling like the plaque?” She gave him a wide grin, a grin he knew she picked up from Aelin, and though he sighed in frustration, he couldn’t help the smile on his face.

He carefully untangled Anoran form his neck, but kept an arm around her shoulder, holding her close. “I was a stowaway darling, we don’t exactly have the luxury of a fine room with a bathing chamber and fresh wine.”

“Yeah but you could have at least jumped into the ocean when you landed.” She covered her nose, the smell almost overpowering her sensitive nose. Rowan sighed heavily, staring off into the distance while Anoran giggled and hugged him.

Aelin was suddenly behind him, forcing him towards the bathroom, “We are going to fix that smell right now. I’m not letting you stay in here and stink up my apartment.” Rowan gave a snarl in retort, but let Aelin guide him towards the bath.

Anoran went to search for clothes that could fit her father, but most of the male clothes here were  _ very  _ much too small for his gigantic size. She debated on asking Aedion if he had any clothes Rowan could borrow, when Lysandra entered the apartment and demanded staying until she saw Rowan. The three waited in the living room, drinking wine, reading, and telling stories about Rowan; the adventures he had been on.

Rowan and Aelin entered the room, the latter still dripping wet with nothing but a towel covering himself. Anoran watched Lysandra gap at her father, and she fought the urge to snarl at the woman, while Aedion simply played his death stare with Rowan once again.

“Ugh, have your pissing contest later, I’m not in the mood.” Aelin rolled her eyes and made for the kitchen, scrounging up some dinner for Rowan. Anoran was instantly by her side, helping prepare her father's meal. Lysandra found some pants she claimed  _ might  _  fit Rowan, apparently once belonging to a man named Sam, and when Anoran caught the grieved look in Aelins eyes, she could only guess they were once lovers. Rowan muttered this thanks and left to change, Lysandra mentioning she will go shopping tomorrow for clothes that will fit his size.

“Although I doubt any tailor will have clothes prepared for him, he’s a large fae warrior, not some pompous lord.” Lysandra laughed to herself, Aedion not looking pleased at all at her comment.

Anoran was just finishing up dinner when she heard her father enter the room, and Aelin commented. “Aedion I thought you adored the Cadre? I mean when I even mentioned Rowan you practically collapsed and began a huge rant on how great he was.” Anoran snickered, noticing her father beam and lean against the wall, an eyebrow raised to a flabbergasted Aedion.

“Yes I admire the cadre for their incredible skill and what not, but I’ve also heard the stories about the... not so pleasant things they have done.” When Rowan did not respond and the women looked at each other questionable, Aedion added. “Look I don’t expect you to understand, fae males have this-”

“Territorial nonsense about themselves?” Aelin interrupted and plopped next to her cousin, “Trust me I think I know what that is.”

Anoran handed Rowan his meal, he took it and opened an arm for her, which she took, Rowan snorted. “Yes you should know Aelin, you nearly lit that noble female on fire for looking at me wrong.”

Aelin went to defend herself, but Anoran has there first. “Technically the female came over, sat in your lap, and proceeded to practically demand a night with you. Aelin had the right of it.” Aelin agreed, Rowan gave a small laugh and kissed Anoran on the top of her head before digging into his food.

The night was quiet after that, Lysandra left to return home and put Evangeline into bed, the others had wine and caught up with each other, stories and updates and what not.

When finally they were growing tired, Anoran brought up a problem. “Well, I assume you two will be sharing the bed,” she gestured to Rowan and Aelin, “I guess I’ll sleep on the couch.” There was only one other bed, and she was not about to share that significantly smaller bed with Aedion, no matter how much he looked like Aelin.

Aedion, however, quickly interjected. “No, you sleep in the other bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Absolutely  not. You are still recovering and the last thing you need is sleeping on a couch!”

“Oh by the Gods, look I’m fine! I can run, jump, fight-”

“Complain,” Anoran added, causing laughter from the other two. Aedion rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his wine. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the couch for now, and when you are  _ actually  _ recovered, then we can switch.”

Aedion looked to the other fae male, narrowing his eyes. “Why not have your father sleep on the couch, why must those two share the bed?” A question, a dangerous question. The two were to lovers, he knew that, but there was still not feasible explanation as to why the two needed to sleep together.

Aelin was the one to answer, “That is none of your business Aedion. When we were in Mistward we went through... a lot of shit. We’re adults, we don’t need you checking in our us you mother hen.” She nagged in the end, sticking out her tongue, and he did the same. The sleeping arrangements seemed well enough for everyone to head to bed, but not after Rowan gave Anoran plenty of blankets and pillows to help her sleeping condition. And after she was tucked into bed by her father, after he told her a story to help her sleep and kissed her head, he went to the other room and practically collapsed on the bed... before Aelin showed up with the most scandalous nightgown he has ever seen.


	14. Preparing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News arrives and everyone must make preperations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao remember when I said I was going to update before school started?
> 
> Wow that was a crazy dream right guys!
> 
> Well I made up for it with a long chapter and already in the works of the next one (thank god this one was a killer to write!)

“Move your feet Anoran,” Aelin’s command echoed in the empty warehouse, still almost drowned out by the skirmish she observed. Anoran knew Aedion was not going to stop training because of his injury, and she knew she had to start training again if she wished to not being treated like a child in battle; so their solution: train together. 

Anoran knew Aedion was going easy on her, not pushing himself to his full potential so Anoran could learn, which benefitted them both in her eyes. After the intense argument last night, where Rowan revealed he had taken the blood oath before Aedion, Anoran froze in fear as Aedion screamed at his cousin, nearly chucking a clock at the wall before storming out. The two made up this morning, but Anoran could still feel that tenseness in Aedion, that frustration. Aelin watched, mainly focusing on Anoran, but giving Aedion a few teases here and there. The two Terrassen natives did not want to risk their fighting weapons, and they had no training swords, so they resorted to broom sticks that Rowan so kindly found and snapped the head off before beginning going to his watch. Anoran reminded herself that she needed someone to switch with him soon, she did not want him up there all day without company. 

The distraction cost her, and she ended up on her ass, stone bruising her bottom.

“What distracted you this time?” Aedion teased, gulping down air, cursing himself for getting so out of shape.

Anoran rolled her eyes and snapped, “Nothing.” She quickly lifted herself and prepared for another onslaught, Aedion admired her form and began again. Aedion went slow, kept his moves noticeable and just a bit slowed down, making it easier for  Anoran to see the attacks and know how to counter them. She was improving, Aelin smiled at the scene, If we encounter bandits or mortal soldiers she’ll be able to defend herself, but she was nowhere close to standing up against Valg.

Anoran blocked each attack, circling Aedion, trying to find an opening. Finally, he lifted his stick overhead, preparing for a heavy blow. She ducked and dived left, jabbing her own stick into his side and spinning, lifting the end to meet his neck, a killing blow. His smile bright, even if he struggled to hide the pain that jab did, he declared her done and playfully shoved her head away from him, earning himself an adorable giggle. The two went to where their waters were sitting when Chaol entered, face stuck in a cold glare. 

Anoran tried not to eavesdrop on Aelin and Chaol’s conversation, but soon his voice was rising and she moved to protect her Queen. 

“The entire market went up in flames! They left no one alive!”

“Some could have escaped.” Aelin’s reply was quite, a cold demeanor, but Anoran could hear the slight quivering in her voice.

She approached them, shaping her face into an innocent child, “What happened?”

Chaol snapped his head to her, eyes flaring up at the sight of her pointed ears, “Your  _ Queen  _ led the soldiers to the black market, the only place we could get our weapons and supplies away from enemy gaze, and they burned the place to the ground.” Anoran’s innocent look was wiped clean then and there, narrowing her eyes towards the rebellion leader.

“And how, exactly, is it her fault? You know she is careful with whatever she is doing.”

Chaol crossed his arms, “Well when she acquired her tools for her raid at the castle,” His patronizing voice set a growl in Anoran’s throat. “They must have figured it was not one of  _ their  _ merchants, those loyal to the crown, and figured out that it must have been the notorious black market known for having rare items.” He turned his hazelnut eyes to Aelin, “They locked the doors and set guards at every entrance, those who managed to escaped the fire were cut down.” Anoran saw Aelin’s jaw lock, she felt guilty, she felt guilty for something she had no idea it would happen.

Anoran stomped between the two, getting close enough to smell the ash that littered his clothes. “It is no one's fault! Not hers, not yours. She had no idea that they would figure it out, and you let it happen! I thought you had men all over the city, surely one could have seen what was going on and called for help?”

“Watch you mouth  _ girl _ .” Chaol’s threat was low and vicious, Anoran saw his hands twitch.

“Chaol that’s enough!” Aedion’s voice rang out through the warehouse.

“Chaol, remember what I warned you.” Aelin’s was much more quiet, like she was trying to hold herself together and not lash out at him.

The silence was deafening, all waiting to see who would talk first, who would make the first move. It was none of them, everyone was too focused on Chaol that they did not hear the silent steps down the stairs, did not see the massive body come behind the former captain...

Rowan planted a heavy hand on Chaol’s shoulder, and when Chaol turned with venom in his eyes, it was leaked out and replaced with shock and fear at who stood before him. 

Without warning Rowan took the hand on his shoulder to his neck, fingers tightening as Chaol’s back quickly found a wall.

Shouts erupted, Aedion quickly took Anoran safely behind him while Aelin walked to the two seemingly calmly.

“Rowan-” her order was interrupted when she caught Rowan’s eyes, green wildfires that were ready to burn Chaol alive. 

Chaol took some steadying breaths, deciding to talk his way out since fighting was not going to work, “I wasn’t going to hurt her-!” Rowan’s grip tightened and Chaol let out a choked gasp, his hands now trying to pry the Male’s off.

“Rowan that’s enough!” Aelin’s order through the blood-oath was followed, but Rowan seemed hesitant at first, as if it was not a complete order. He released his grip and Chaol sank to his knees, coughing and struggling to get air back in his lungs. 

Rowan watched him, and did not even bother kneeling before Chaol before threatening. “You ever talk to my daughter like that again, you will wish that your king had captured you.” He turned to Aelin, who gave him a scolding, but still understanding, look. He gave a small bow of his head and proceeded towards Anoran, who shook her head at her overprotective father. 

Before he could reach her, however, Lysandra entered with Evangeline in tow.

“Aelin,” Lysandra called out, all quieted and turned towards the courtesan. “Arobynn is calling in his favor, today.” The warning sent everyone tight, Rowan placed a guiding hand on Anoran and began to lead her upstairs. Anoran protested at first, but Aelin was talking to Chaol again and she decided against getting between them.

Aelin and her court waited in her apartment all day, awaiting whatever “payment” Arobynn had in mind. Anoran sat reading with Aelin, who seemed calm enough, it was the two males who kept pacing and asking questions.

“If you two don’t stop dancing around I’m going to order both of you to get me chocolates,” Aelin’s threat was nothing more than a mumble, not even looking up from her book. The two males growled softly, Aedion adding some witty comment while Rowan simply rolled his eyes and sat beside her.

He shot up a second later when he heard the door to the warehouse open.

Both the males practically ran down the steps to see what has arrived and bring it up, Anoran gave her Queen an exhausted look, shaking her head in annoyance.

“Aelin,” Rowan voiced as he entered, carrying a box, a note on top. Aelin cleared the table and he set it down with ease, Aelin took the note and sliced it open, reading carefully. Her eyes first went wide, then her neat brows furrowed, her mouth gaping. “What?” Rowan demanded, taking a step towards her, she stood still as a statue.

She struggled to find her voice, “She... wants us to go to his home for dinner, with a Valg soldier so he can interrogate.”

“That doesn’t sound surprising,” Anoran questioned, her chest feeling light at the missing part of the deal.

“He wants me to,” Aelin took a steadying breath. “ _ Bring that beautiful faerie girl with, I brought her a present for her to wear _ .” Instantly Rowan was tearing the box open, snatching the dress and lifting it.

It was beautiful, if not provocative: the white dress has a dangerously low neckline, the sleeves long but open, nearly draping across the floor, royal purple hem accented the dress and a gold and purple belt to form her waist, the rest covered if not tight.

“Absolutely not,” Rowan all but growled out, tearing the dress to shreds with just his icy look.

“Father I must-”

“I’m not having you go anywhere near  _ him _ !”

Aedion now raised his voice in concern, “How did he even find out about you?”

“I don’t care how he found you, he’s not touching you!”

Anoran stepped toward her father, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch me. Father if this is the only way we’ll get our deal, get what we need. Then I will do it.” Rowan swallowed, balling the dress in his hands, Aelin’s throat was too tight to speak, her heart heavy and stomach queasy. But she looked to Rowan, his head low, eyes dark and grieved almost. She needed to give him hope, to promise him she will be alright...

“Rowan,” Aelin spoke softly, Rowan lifted his head slowly. “I don’t know if Arobynn knows you are her father, but I can guarantee he will take one look at you, a fae warrior, and know that if he tries anything with Anoran, it will be his last mistake.” Their eyes locked, blue eyes of golden fire promising to those evergreen eyes, and Rowan believed them, trusted them. He nodded, letting the dress loose in his hands so Anoran could take it.

Aedion stared at the floor, huffing, “Now, I believe we have a Valg to capture.”

* * *

 

They captured the Valg, tied him and set a bag over his head, and now they prepared for this dinner. Aelin and Anoran prepared in the Queen's room while Rowan and Aedion prepared in the living room, Aelin already having used the perfume Arobynn requested she wear sitting on the table. Rowan stared at it for a long time, debating smashing it or throwing it at the Assassin King. Finally he grew a wild smile and snatched the bottle, opening it and dabbing it on his wrists, neck, and behind the ear.

“What are you doing?” Aedion questioned, stifling a giggle. 

Rowan turned, shrugging as he rubbed his hands of the oil, “Arobynn said Aelin had to use it, didn’t specify if anyone else could.” This time Aedion giggled, leaning forward from where he stood against the wall. He continued to laugh as he lifted, pushing his hair out of his face and watching the mischievous look in Rowan’s eyes glimmer with delight. Rowan extended the bottle to the general, “Want some?”

“Nah,” was all Aedion could answer, laughing too much to even breath.

“What are you two laughing about!” Anoran’s voice echoed through the apartment, her voice high and tone questioning.

“Nothing!” The two males replied in unison, giving each other an understanding look.

Aedion motioned towards the door, “Want to go see if we can put some on the Valg prisoner?” 

“Of course,” Rowan accepted and the two hurried off out the door with the bottle.

Meanwhile Aelin was helping Anoran into her dress, she requested she get dressed first so she could get used to the feeling. Aelin finished the ties, Anoran already reaching to cross her arms over her chest, but caught Aelin’s sorrowful stare at her back.

“My mark is noticeable isn’t it?” Anoran questioned softly, already seeing the black ink that was probably extremely noticeable due to the bare back.

Aelin looked up and give her a half smile in the mirror, “It’s nothing I can’t fix.” She brought the long silver hair behind her, running her fingers through it as she thought aloud. “I can put half of it up, having the rest cover the tattoo. Is that okay?” That smile grew, her eyes dancing with slight joy at the solution, and Anoran nodded.

Aelin finished, an intricate braid knotted on the back of Anorna’s head, leaving the rest of her neatly groomed hair to fall behind her back. Aelin was now in her closet getting ready, Anoran continuing studying herself in the mirror, trying to get used to this level of exposure again. She managed to keep her arms by her side, keeping them relaxed, for there was no way in hell she was going to let Arobynn know she was uncomfortable in that dress. 

Aelin emerged and Anoran awed at the stunning dress, one that matched Aelin so perfectly it seemed like it was made just for her, for this very occasion.

“I need a dress like that,” A ghost of a smile crept onto her slight freckled face, taking in the detail of the golden dragon.

Aelin moved past her, fixing her hair in the mirror, “Well after this, we can stop by the shops tomorrow and pick out a dress just for you.” Anoran like that idea, liked being out with Aelin, acting normal and doing things for fun. The two said nothing as they exited to meet with the males.

The two females entered to seeing the males struggle to hide their smirks and giggles, their faces red, revealing that they must have been laughing for some time.

“What did you two do?” Anoran’s motherly tone stopped them dead, her hands on her hips making Aelin look at Anoran as the woman she really is.

Rowan cleared his throat, “nothing. Just talking.” His stiff look returned quickly, and it only dropped as he saw Anoran’s dress, the amount of skin she was revealing... “I hate to say it but... You look beautiful, darling.” He mumbled out, heart heavy.

Anoran lifted a brow, “As opposed to all the other times I look just terrible?”

“What? No, not at all,” Rowan denied quickly and came to her, hands cupping her face. “I just... I hate seeing you in this thing, in anything you don’t want to be in.” Anoran hated it too, hated it more than anyone, because she knows what she must look like. How familiar this must look to others who have seen her before.

“It’s just for one night, then I’ll burn it along with his corpse.” Anoran’s voice was stone, colder than what she was expecting, but the others looked at her with the confidence she needed. Rowan kissed the top of her daughter's head, embracing her, and finally caught a look at Aelin.

He coughed like he choked on something and backed away from Anoran, mouth ajar, “You look... beautiful.”

Aelin looked down at herself, clicking her tongue. “I know.” She gave a slow turn, Rowan absolutely losing his mind.

Aedion finally saved him, “Is everyone ready to go, or do we need to have a gawk fest for five more minutes?”

“Yes,” Anoran replied. “Let’s go have dinner with the most vile mortal there is.” With that the four turned for Arobynn.


	15. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anoran goes with her father and Queen for dinner with the most vile man in Adarlan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao remember when I said I was gonna update soon? Man that was a wild dream.
> 
> Anyway I've already started the next chapter so fingers crossed that my classes don't decide to kill me.

The carriage ride was quiet, none spoke, only the clicking of the wells on stone filled their silence. Aedion and Aelin sat between the captive Valg, Rowan in front of it, keeping Anoran as far from the creature as possible. She did not mind, she knew the creature would not harm her, she knew there was still an ounce of human left within. She gazed out the carriage window, studying the passing buildings, trying to take her mind off her dress. Rowan kept a hand on the small of her back, rubbing circles, she knew he could smell her fear.

The carriage came to a stop, Aelin took several breaths, and Anoran watched her face change right before her eyes: one minute she was Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terresan. The next, Celaena Sardothien, Adarlans Assassin.

They all filed out of the cart, Aedion keeping his sword to the Valgs back as he led him to the front doors of the beautiful home. Rowan stayed in front of Anoran, when Arobynn revealed himself, he worked to keep her hidden and away from the man, his hand carefully situation behind for Anoran to grab if needed.

“Ah, there you are.” Arobynn mused, his beautiful face coming into Anoran’s view, a perfect white smile across his face. “Now, now, don’t be shy.” He held a hand out, beckoning her, Anoran heard Rowan give a small snarl. Anoran took the deepest breath she could with the tight clothing, lifting her chin up, she approached the King of Assassins.

She gave only a bow of her head, “A pleasure, Arobynn Hamel.” She kept her hands folded in front of her, her body the entity of regal.

Arobynn studied her, his gaze slowly going down her body and back up, Rowan’s possessiveness getting the better of him as he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. Arobynn noticed, of course, and his smile grew. “Oh yes, I do see the resemblance between you two, such a lovely picture! Father and daughter, both the picturesque beauty of faes.” His gaze shifted back to Anoran, those amber eyes triggering a shiver down her body. “But who is this lovely creature before me?” He took one of her hands in his own, lifting up to his surprisingly soft lips, staying there for several heart beats. His eyes stayed locked to hers, watching, waiting for a sign of weakness.

Anoran answered with a smirk, “Anoran. And I can assure you, you touch me without my permission again, and I’m sure my father would love to watch you try to eat without hands.” Anoran was surprised her voice stayed so level, so beautiful, for her other hand was quivering. Rowan let out a grunt in approval, coming closer to her, taking her hand in his. Arobynn said nothing, his smile did not even drop, he simply lifted his lips from her hand and carefully placed it back by her side.

He straightened again, eyes shifting towards Aelin. “Now then, Celaena why don’t darling Anoran wait in the living area while we... conduct our business. Wouldn’t want her to spoil our dinner.” Anoran thought it better to not mention she’s seen plenty of blood and body parts, instead turning to Aelin, awaiting her orders. She turned and gave a single nod, it was safe.

Anoran began to walk, Rowan right behind her, but Arobynn spoke up. “Oh no good sir, she will be in good hands. Clarisse and Lysandra are here to keep her company.”

“Why the hell did you bring her?” Aelin snapped, Rowan turned and went stiff. “This is supposed to be between  _ us _ , I don’t want to listen to that whore or her whore-boss.” Anoran knew she did not mean it, that she had to use those words to keep up her fake identity, but it still sunk her heart to hear it.

“Now Celaena,” Arobynn clicked his tongue. “Lysandra is my companion and therefore allowed to all my dinners. And Clarisse was very eager to see you again, that and our rather beautiful faes here.” Anoran hissed quietly at Arobynn’s mention of him “owning” Lysandra, she wanted to choke him just for mentioning such a thing.

Instead, she turned to Aelin, commenting. “It’s fine, I’m sure they’ll be more interested in my father anyway, he would be a much more suitable client compared to her current one.” She thought she heard Aedion choke back a laugh, but instead turned and headed towards the living area.

Lysandra was there, her dress beautiful if not scandalous, her corset pushing her large breasts and nearly bursting out of the dress. The older woman next to her was still beautiful, perhaps close to Arobynns age, and still holding her beauty. They heads snapped to her as she made her way to a chair, their gazes running up and down her body, examining.

“Well, well,” Clarisse sipped her wine. “I never thought I’d see another fae here in Adarlan, but look at you! It’s as if the Gods sent down a spirit just to remind me how beautiful you creatures are.”

Anoran turned to her, amber eyes running up and down the older woman’s body, her lips pursing. “And it appears they have sent you to me to show just how... plain looking mortals are.” A ghost of a smile crept onto Lysandra’s lips, Clarisse gripped her wine glass harder.

Still that wicked smile remained, she lifted a brow, “Oh indeed. Nothing can compare to such beauty. Tell me, is your father just has striking looking?” Anoran said nothing, her face stone. “I suppose I shall see soon enough, and who knows, maybe he will want to experience a  _ plain mortal _ for himself, he must have forgotten what we feel like.” Anoran gripped the arms of her chair so hard the wood creaked, and Clarisse heard it.

Rowan and Aedion joined them several minutes later, Anoran immediately giving up her seat of her father, now sitting on the arm of the chair between him and Clarisse, the first line of defense.

Clarisse leaned forward to put down her class, catching Rowan’s face, her smile now all teeth. “Oh my, you are a handsome one aren’t you? My, my, fae genes really are something to marvel at.”

“Shut it, whore.” Rowan’s voice had no hint of amusement, no gloating, it was a strict order. Clarisse struggled to keep her smile. 

Clarisse did not give up so easily, “Are all fae males so strict? It would be fun to play the... submissive type again-”

“You so much as touch me or my daughter and I will make it so no man nor woman wants you ever again,” Rowan’s threat was filled with venom, his head ever so slowly turning towards the older woman. Clarisse stopped talking after that.

Aelin and Arobynn entered a few, deathly silent, minutes later. Arobynn’s cat-like smile staying as he examined everyone's position, feeling the tenseness in the room. He led them all to the dining area, where food was already placed and steaming.

Anoran sat beside Rowan, Aelin on his other side, Aedion next to her. Arobynn, Lysandra, and Clarisse sat across them them. Anoran focused on eating, on the texture of the food while people talked. A few times she was asked a question, and each time she answered sweetly but dismissively. At one point she felt the table slightly rattle and looked to the source, Rowan desperately trying to keep his face from turning bright red.

“I hope you do not mind Celaena,” Arobynn drawled, swirling his cup of wine. “But Clarisse and I have recently made a new business partner and invited them to diner.” Aelin made no change in her expression, her face on borderline boredom.

Aedion, however, leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And who is this ‘buisness partner’?”

Clarisse answered this time, hands folded on her lap neatly, “A man new to the brothel business around here. He appeared to have much potential and so we invested, he has not appeared to disappoint.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, one of the trembling servants hurrying to answer it. They heard the door open and muffled voices, footsteps following.

All kept their eyes facing forward, not daring to look back as Arobynn added. “Oh I think you’ll love him Celaena, a true business man, almost as smart as us I would say.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Aelin replied, taking another bite of her chicken.

The heavy footsteps entered the kitchen, painfully mortal, as Anoran noted. But the smell hit her before he even spoke, that smoke and lavender scent that terrified her, her body went numb.

“‘Ello princess,” The lazy voice caused a chain reaction: first Anoran’s grip on her fork loosened and sent it clattering onto her plate, then Rowan’s snarl shook the table, shooting out of his chair so fast and powerful that it was pushed back against a nearby wall. “You’re a long way from home, aren’t ya?” Anoran saw the absolute malicious smirk Clarisse’s face, Arobynn showed nothing, but everything at the same time. They knew. That was how  they knew she was here, because Bastille contacted  _ them _ .

She willed herself to lift from her chair, knees weak, having to brace her hand on the table as she turned to the fat, disgusting man. His hair was still the luscious orange, mustache neatly groomed and clothes immaculate, he would be seen as beautiful if Anoran did not know what a vile man he was.

“Get. Back.” Rowan growled, blocking Bastille’s view of his daughter with his massive body, right arm firmly gripped on his sword.

Aelin snapped her head to Arobynn, her disgusted look whipped his smirk away. “Arobynn, get him away from us-”

“My dear you know I just cannot-”

“Get him away or I’ll kill him myself!”

Clarisse’s voice now huffed, having the balls to actually scold Aelin, “Oh you have not lost any of your  _ charm _ , have you dear? We made a deal, you know we do not just  _ cut off  _ deals because some girl told us to.”

“Besides,” Bastille’s lazy tone rippled new anger through the four. “This deal has been in place for a long time, little Princess here still has not paid her debt.”

“D-don’t call me that!” Anoran’s voice was barely a quiet squeal, just barely audible to the people around her.

Bastille’s smile grew, revealing his straight, white teeth. “Now, now, I thought we went over this-” He took a step towards Rowan, The sword of half out of his sheath in a second.

It was Aedion, however, to voice his threat. “You take one more step and I’ll make you regret ever living!”

Bastille turned to him, his large stomach rumbling with laughter, “Oh I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you.”

“And why not?” Aelin now turned her body towards Bastille, hands loose and ready for whatever weapons she was going to use.

“Because it would just cause more trouble for your little whore friend.” The three were ready to lunge, but Anoran’s scream stopped them.

Rowan was the first to turn, suddenly feeling the warm presence behind him gone, seeing her on the other side of the table, Arobynn’s knife to her throat.

He rushed forward, but Aelin managed to grab his hand, “No!” She pulled on the oath, pulled as hard as she could, and he did stop. After Aelin made sure Rowan was not going to try and rip Arobynn to shreds, she turned to her former master, her voice almost unrecognizable, “Arobynn. Let. Her. Go.” Arobynn’s face was not happy, in fact it was almost a frown, but he still held a grip on Anoran’s hands so tight she knew they would bruise.

“I’m sorry Celaena, I honestly wish I could, but a deal is a deal.” His voice almost matched his “frown-but-not-quite” face.

“Bullshit!” Aedion shouted and began circling the table, but Arobynn put more pressure on the knife, Anoran hissing in pain as blood began to dribble down her neck, stopping Aedion cold.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t kill her.” The three stood, stupefied and frozen in place, trapped with nowhere to go.

Anoran held back her tears, but it became especially difficult when she saw her own father’s eyes begin to glaze over, his body shaking with restraint. Anoran heard the pleas, actual  _ pleas  _ and bargains and threats to let her go. Each of their faces were twisted with so much pain, anger, grief; Anoran did not know how much of this she could take. She saw Bastille, the man standing tall and proud, eyeing her like a prized mare, waiting patiently to claim it.

Even if they managed to convince Arobynn to let her go, there would be no chance he would give Aelin the amulet, the amulet they need in order to beat the King of Adarlan, in order to revive magic into this world and bring peace.

The shouts were getting louder, more desperate, the blade cutting ever so deeper...

“I’ll do it,” Her voice rang out, shaky and broken, but still loud. “I’ll go with him.”

Rowan shook his head, his tears building, “No...” His voice sounded so broken, he had to witness his dead mate, now he has to witness his only daughter leave him.

She steadied her breath, trying to give her father a comforting look. “I’ll be alright father, we must do this-”

“I’m not losing you.” That heartbroken tone went suddenly hard with determination, daring a step forward.

“You must,” Anoran choked on her words, struggling to collect herself as she turned to Aelin. “Just finish what we came here for, please. Do that, and me going with him will not be in vain.” Aelin mustered a slow nod, face still emotionless, but Anoran could see the struggling behind it. She took one last steadying breath, her voice quiet. “At least let me have the damn dignity of walking on my own.” They knew who it was for, and Arobynn obliged, taking the knife off her neck, letting her wrists go, and stepping back.

Anoran began her walk, made it all of about two steps before Rowan pulled her into his embrace. He was lifting her, face buried in the crook of her neck, absorbing her scent while warm tears wet her shoulders.

“I will find you, I promise.” His voice was so quiet only those with fae hearing could hear it, placing a long kiss on her head. Anoran could not speak in fear of bursting into tears as well, instead she wrapped her arms around the built body, squeezing tight, taking in his pine and snow scent. 

She was the one that let go, Rowan keeping a hand on her for as long as he could while she walked, finally letting her hand go and drop to his side. Bastille’s smile grew as she approached, her silver head held high as the large man turned to let her pass. She began walking through the guards, who closed around her tightly. Bastille was the last to turn, giving a bow of his head towards the others, his body hid Anoran as they exited the home.

None dared to even breath until they heard the footsteps recede, until they heard the door open and close, silence save for the ticking of a clock somewhere.

“I am sorry,” Arobynn’s voice finally cut the silence. “She seems like a sweet girl, a shame it had to be like this.” Aelin threw him a glare, a vile glare of pure hate, but Rowan acted too fast for anyone to stop him.

He turned, his fist landing a powerful blow on the side of Arobynn’s face, the mortal man reeling back and colliding with one of the windows. Guards stood ready to attack, but Arobynn raised his hand, they sheathed their sword and stood down. Arobynn lifted, no smile on his face, nursing the already bruised cheek, a cut bleeding down his face.

“A word,” Aelin ordered and left it at that, turning and leaving for the living area.

* * *

 

Chaol was concerned when he saw the lavish carriage pull up, the fat man climb out with his guards and walk in like he owned the place, but his concern turned to worry and dread as he saw the fae girl walk out surrounded by the guards, tears silently streaking down her tan face. They loaded in the carriage, the two horses trotting off down the street at a leisurely pace.

“Should we follow?” Nesryn’s voice was hoarse, her black hair tied back and covered with her hood. She already had her bow out, ready to track and take down whoever took Anoran. Chaol’s first instinct was yes, to follow and cause the man hell for capturing the girl, that once strong and courageous face he alway saw now broken. Even if they did not always see eye to eye, Chaol admired the girl’s strength, her loyalty. But then he remembered the people still inside, what laid inside, what they needed to defeat the King, to bring back Dorian...

He gave the orders quickly, “Follow but do not engage. Leave a man behind every half mile or so, that way I can find you when this is done. I’m going to stay behind to make sure we got what we came for, once that is dealt with, I’ll find you and we’ll take them out.” Nesryn nodded, leaving Chaol and a few men while she took the rest running along the rooftops, after the carriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe I love suffering.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. The Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anoran is stuck with the man who ruined her life, but the carriage stops suddenly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not updated as quick as I would have liked, but updated all the same.
> 
> Enjoy!

Anoran could not stop the tears that silently streaked down her face, but she did not attempt to stop them either. The guards surrounded her, Bastille leading her towards a carriage, a beautiful looking carriage with just as much luxuries on the inside.

The guards were not gentle when they shoved her in, Bastille on her left, a guard on her right, and two more guards in front of her. Then the carriage was moving, tears still came and came, eyes planted at the floor.

“Oh come now, stop your crying,” Bastille placed his large hand on her upper thigh, Anoran flinched. “No need in getting tired now, we need to catch you up on your training.” She sobbed at that, shoulders shaking, her body so tight and small. Another thick hand gripped her jaw and turned her to face Bastille, his eyes narrowed. “I said that’s enough. You haven’t forgotten’ your place have you?” He raised his groomed eyebrows, it was a question, she needed to answer... she remembers what happens when she does not answer his questions. However, she could not find the words, could not will her mouth to move. He sighed, the hand on her thigh roaming, exploring. “Ah, I thought so. Spending so much time with faes and whatnot you forget what you really are, hm?” She closed her eyes, trying to block him out, but he gripped her jaw so hard she could feel the bruises forming. “You’re a whore. You are a whore to us mortals, and no amount fae magic can cleanse you of that!” Anoran began sobbing again, the hand on her jaw now moving to her neck, caressing. “Hush now my Princess. Be a good little princess, please? We’ll need that pretty mouth of yours when we get back.” His hands did not let go of her, only kept roaming, his surprisingly soft lips peppering her with kisses and bites.

Anoran could do nothing, lest she be punished. She managed to calm her sobbing by looking out the window and picturing she was back in Mistward. That she was coming back from training with her father and Aelin, and they were telling her amazing stories while Emrys cooked something amazing...

Lorcan scented Anoran’s fear, following the thick scent like tracking a herd of walking elk through a meadow. The streets were empty, the people too scared to be out after dark. He found the carriage and darted to an alleyway. Anoran was in there, and he smelled lavender and sex in as well, heard the wet slap of kisses. Who in Hellas just waltzed in and took Rowan rutting Whitethorn’s own daughter without him stopping it? He debated whether to leave them, it certainly sounded like they were having a good time, he even turned around, ready to find the bitch-queen, but then he heard the sob. It was a quick sob, but it told Lorcan enough; that was the sob of a terrified female who did not want what was currently happening to her. He growled, turns out Fenrys was right after all, Whitethorn won’t be there to hold his daughter’s hand everywhere. He thumbed his axes and trailed the carriage.

The carriage was jolted to a stop, the horses nickering and hoffing the ground.

“What the ‘ell was that?” Bastille swore, hitting the side of the carriage, an order to go, but the carriage did not move. He nodded to the guards across from them, they quickly left the carriage with swords drawn. Bastille kept his hand Anoran’s thigh, gripping tight, her thigh throbbing. There was a shout, but it was cut short, wind whooshed by them as something landed, then two  _ thuds _ . Bastille growed, “I thought yer dad was smart enough to not follow,” Anoran thought so as well. Did they already have the amulet? Or did Rowan leave to find her despite Aelin’s command? The third and final guard carefully stepped out of the carriage, surveying the area carefully. Anoran could see blood on the street below the opened door, a lone axe in a guard's head, but she knew Rowan did not use axes.

Chaol must have seen her leave? Perhaps he went to rescue her, it surprised her to think about the mortal who did not particularly like her come to her rescue, but she did not care. Then she saw a shadow past, a shadow so large and so fast she knew it was not mortal. The guard in the carriage shouted, demanded for the man to reveal himself, but another axe found his heart instead.

Bastille gripped Anoran by the arm and forced her out, her struggling cut short once a knife was, once again, at her throat. They excited, and Anoran could assess the damage: all the guards were dead, every single one. Blood was everywhere, and the horses were jittery.

“Not a step closer!” Bastille ordered into the air, “Or li’l Princess here gets it!” Anoran looked out, straining her fae sight and hearing to see who had come, but saw no one. Bastille began walking, Anoran forced to follow, but she knew not where. A shadow passed over them, chilling her exposed body. A building, they must be heading toward some building to hide out until reinforcements arrived.

Then the figure revealed itself, emerging from the shadows in a cloak, a bloody axe and clean sword at his side. He was not mortal, Anoran knew that much, his steps were too quiet for his size, and his cloak hid his features to know he did not want people seeing them.

Bastille’s dagger cut deeper, his voice shaky, “Not a step closer!” The cloaked man stopped, weapons still out beside him. “... Put ‘em down. Now!” Anoran hissed at the pain, Bastille gripping her arm and bending it back in an unnatural way. The man did not even move, but she swore a pair of black eyes slide to her, silently ordering her to do  _ something _ . Perhaps he was a valg, waiting to capture her and bring to the King, but she would rather face a Valg King than a monster like Bastille. She carefully asses Bastille’s position, her arms had too much force to be and free herself, and her other arms would not be able to push him away without seriously injuring herself. She examined the hand that held the knife: his form was sloppy, his sweaty hands constantly having to adjust his position, and she could move her head far enough without the knife getting in the way.

Without a word Anoran whipped her head to Bastille’s hand and bit down, she felt her elongated canines puncture his thick skin and tasted the metallic blood. Bastille cried out in pain, dropping the knife out of instinct, pushing her away. She landed hard on the ground, but the mysterious man was already there, rushing forward and using the hilt of his sword to knock Bastille unconscious on the ground. Anoran’s breath was heavy, still feeling blood coat her lips, her hands trembling and sore. The man turned towards her, his looming body coming closer. She cried out and pushed herself back, stopping hard when she felt cold metal on her back. The man knelt and she heard a heavy sigh, he knelt and reached for his hood.

Anoran blinked once, twice, making sure she recognized the black onyx hair and matching eyes, the rough features that once asked to her be quiet for her own good...

“Lorcan?” She whispered, as if afraid there were people overhearing. He nodded once, questions swam through her mind. “What are you... why are... how-”

“Can you walk?” his voice was rough, not at all sympathetic, but she was glad all the same to hear the familiar voice. She gave a slow nod, using the wall behind her to help lift her legs. Lorcan quickly darted here and there, picking up his discarded axes and dumping the bodies in the carriage. He was but a shadow around her, however, her line of sight went straight for Bastille who laid limp on the cold ground. She studied the face in extreme detail: remembering how that warm, welcoming smile tricked her into his den; how that smile switched to something truly malicious and evil. Her anger got the better of her and she marched over without even thinking.

She kicked, she gave a strong kick straight to his gut, he coughed back to life. She did not let up, she kicked and kicked, adding some punches to his face. The red blood decorating his orange hair nicely, she thought. She did not realize she was crying until it dripped down onto the man’s body, who tried to shield himself from her relentless attacks. She gave a kick each time she was forced to pleasure another man, a punch each time she was shoved into some scandalous outfit. Eventually her vision became blinded with tears, her blows weakening, and she collapsed to her knees; her fists balled as she cried into them.

She did not know how long she was crying, but she felt a tap on her shoulder. She sniffed and looked up, ready to stand, but stopped when she saw the axe held in front of her. Lorcan stood, his towering body steady and strong, he held the handle of the axe before her, his look not his typical cold, bored demeanor, but a simple questioning look. Anoran stared at the axe, blood still dripping from the iron tip. He was giving to her willingly, not a concern that she’ll use it on him, but that would hardly be a concern for Lorcan Salvaterre. No, he was asking if she wanted to kill Bastile, to dive that axe through his skull or heart or anywhere she saw fit. Her heart ached for the axe, for the hardwood, she wanted to do it. She wanted to kill this man for what he has done. Still, her hands did not even twitch, for they were hands of a healer, not a killer. A healer does not take lives, even if that person is a vile man such as Bastille.

Finally, she shook her head, her eyes slowly looking up to those onyx eyes; she would let Rowan decide this man’s fate. Lorcan said nothing as he sheathed his axe back into its holster, his voice the cold ice she remembered it, “Can you walk?” Anoran nodded once, bracing her hands onto the cold stone and lifting, feeling the sweltering heat stick to her exposed back. Lorcan easily lifted Bastille over his shoulders, motioning with his head for Anoran to follow before marching towards one of the many abandoned buildings.

They entered the building, the splintered wood and shattered glass littered the floor, but Anoran paid them no mind. What little furniture remained was old and tattered, eaten by rats. Lorcan did not seem to care as he flipped Bastille onto the hard floor, the mortal groaning in pain. The demi-fae plopped down onto one of the arm chairs, beginning to clean his weapons. Anoran instead went for the couch against the far wall, as far away from Bastille as possible, she brought her legs to her chest and spaced out.

Lorcan guessed why Bastille, Lord of Whores, was after Anoran; she lived in his main city after all. He didn’t care, he told himself again and again that he did not care that she sold herself either willingly or unwillingly (most likely unwillingly if Lorcan has gathered anything) to him. Still, he couldn’t understand why she did not kill him; why did she refuse to kill a man who has done those things to her? And where the hell was Whitethorn and his damned Bitch-Queen?

“Where’s your father?” Lorcan questioned, not bothering to look up from his weapons, but turned when he got no response. He saw the fae-child curled up on the purple couch, eyes wide and distant, body shaking. He sighed through audibly, swearing he could hear the Gods laughing at him. He walked heavily to her, hoping to shake her out of her trance without needing to do much, but she did not even acknowledge his presence. He sat next to her, his hand covering her entire narrow shoulder as he shook, gently at first, but his patience quickly thinned. It awarded him a scream, Anoran nearly leaping up from the couch as she felt the contact.

“Hey,” Lorcan quickly spoke to get her attention, holding his hands before him. “I’m not him, alright? He’s not going to do a thing to you.” He motioned towards Bastille, and Anoran followed his gaze, seeing the man still unconscious ten feet away.

Anoran worked to calm her breathing, but could only think of the hands all over her skin, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just... I j-just can’t...” She broke down in tears again, hands hugging herself tightly.

Lorcan ran his hand down his face, promising himself to throttle Fenrys next time he saw him. He stood, knowing better than to try and comfort her with contact, which was fine on his part, but he could think of nothing else to stop her crying. He looked around, finding a bundle of fabrics on a rotting dresser. He walked over and began sifting through it, finding a blanket that looked the most intact and picking it up.

Anoran tensed when she felt the weight get wrapped around her, but opened her eyes and saw the blanket resting over her shoulders. She sniffed, her tears subsiding once again, and she clutched to the blanket, muttering a thanks before curling back up onto the couch. Lorcan sat on the side, leaning away from her, as he went back to cleaning his weapons.

~~~

Nesryn has never seen anyone fight like that, never seen movements so fluid and powerful yet so smooth. Whoever Anoran’s rescuer was, he was demi-fae.

“Do we go get her?” One of her men questioned, looking just as impressed as Nesryn, but she could see the fear behind those brown eyes.

She sighed, the demi-fae could very well attack them, could be using Anoran as his own leverage, or he could not. She looked out, wondering if Chaol was close, but saw none but her men resting.

She turned back, ordering quietly. “No, keep watch, wait for Chaol. If he tries to take Anoran somewhere else, we intervene.

~~~

“Why did you help me?” Anoran’s broken voice pulled Lorcan out of his work, turning and seeing those bright eyes staring at him in utter confusion.

Lorcan huffed, “I can’t save someone of the same kin?” She gave no indication of buying his shit lie, he sighed again. “I... promised someone I would keep you alive, and no, it wasn’t Whitethorn.”

She furrowed her brows, shaking her head slightly. “You didn’t have to save me. You could have told the person you promised that you didn’t get to me in time.”

Lorcan managed a chuckle at this, Fenrys would try and damned hardest to flay him alive if he claimed her couldn’t get his mate-but-not away from a Whore Lord.

He turned to Anoran again, who was studying him as if she was studying a hard arithmetic problem. “Look, I made a promise, I don’t go back on promises. I don’t try to find a way out of the promise, I said I would keep an eye on you, and I will. Besides,” He leaned back. “This could play out in my favor, Whitethorn will owe me for saving your ass.” Anoran said nothing, and he closed his eyes, but he felt her look still upon him. He turned, seeing her bare a warm smile. “What?” He growled out, but the smile didn't fade.

“You’re not what people make you out to be,” Anoran mused, her head leaned against the back of the couch.

Lorcan snorted, “I’m not?”

She shook her head, “I mean, you’re cold hearted and brutal as everyone says you are, but there’s more to you. People say you have a heart made of ice, but I think it’s rather warm.” Lorcan said nothing, so she continued. “You have a soft side, a side that wants to help people, a side that cares-”

“I  _ don’t  _ care.”

“Yes you do,” Anoran teased. “You care, even if you convince yourself that you don’t.”

Lorcan grit his teeth, he hated talking about himself, especially like this. “And how can you possibly know this?”

“Because we grew up the same,” Anoran shrugged. “We both grew up in cities where we were not noted, where people looked down upon us. The only difference was... you grew up on your own. I had someone to help me, to look after me, but you only had yourself and learn from and to rely upon.” A smile crept upon her lips, “There’s a little bit of me in you, that little bit of kindness. I think... I think if you had someone like I had, like Emrys, then you wouldn’t be so cold hearted.” Lorcan snorted, looking away, but spoke once more. “I wish to see that one day. I wish to see you being kind and big-hearted one day, and I believe I will.” He snapped his head back, her smile growing, revealing her white teeth.

Lorcan snorted, lifted a brow, “If there’s a bit of you in me, does that mean there’s a bit of me in you? Does that mean there’s a little cold-hearted bitch inside of you?”

Anoran shrugged, “Possibly.”

It was Lorcan’s turn to smile, “I would pay to see that.”

~~~

Time passed and Chaol caught up with Nesryn, watching the building as she informed him the situation. Lorcan knew they were up there, saw them when he first scented the carriage, but he didn’t know if they were friend or foe to Anoran.

He saw her beginning to doze off, speaking up to get her attention, “There’s men outside. On the roof of the building, do you know them?” Anoran blinked, rubbing her eyes awake as she gazed out one of the broken windows.

“Yes, it’s Chaol and Nesryn, they can be trusted.” Anoran smiled at them, glad to know that they cared enough for her to follow her.

Lorcan stood and went to the window, watching the many heads dart of him, but he simply motioned inside the house and walked back in.

Chaol carefully made his way to the house, Nesryn and her archers positioned to fire at the demi-fae at first sign of trouble. He did not bother to knock as he entered, first seeing the large man collapsed on the floor, bloodied and bruised.

“Chaol?” A soft voice turned his head further inside, seeing Anoran standing next to the demi-fae, a blanket wrapped around her. Chaol only nodded, hesitant that she would order the other to attack him. She ran to him instead, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest.

Chaol said nothing, wrapping his arms around her back and giving the demi-fae a questioning look. The man said nothing, only nodding once, it was okay to leave. Chaol led Anoran out, Nesryn and other guards were instantly there, surrounding her.

The walk was silent, luckily they were not too far away from Aelin’s apartment, but it was still a tense walk. Chaol was ready for Anoran to snap at him, to shout at him for whatever reason, but it never came.

“So...” He began, looking down at the fae, lifting a brow. “We’re... good?”

Anoran gave a soft laugh, “We’ve always been ‘good.’ I mean I might not agree with everything that you say, but... Aelin trusts you. You’re heart is in the right place, you’re not a bad person.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Chaol joked, a careful arm secured around her shoulder as he guided her back.

They found the warehouse, the guards disappearing as Chaol and Nesryn entered, Anoran between them. They did not bother with calling out, already hearing the loud thumping and running, Rowan smelled her.

The male stopped at the top of the steps, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes wide and staring at Anoran. He bolted down the stairs and lifted her into his arms before she could take two steps. Anoran sobbed for a third time into her father’s shoulder, taking his smell as she gripped him hard and refused the let go.


	17. Hiatus

Sorry guys but I will be taking a small hiatus at the moment (if you couldn't already tell lmao rip). I just have a lot going on and I'm a bit stuck right now in terms of where I want this to go.

 

I do have some other works in progress and will try to keep you all entertained while school kicks my ass :)

 

Thanks! Sorry for the delay!!!

**Author's Note:**

> They're so smol I love them! Also, I will post when I have updated on my tumblr (www.qtipping.tumblr.com). Anyway hope you enjoyed!


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